


Memento Mori

by mywishingglass



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angels Becoming Humans, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas gift, Dark Hallmark, Death, F/M, Four Horsemen, Immortals, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, JSS2019, Jonerys, Jonerys Secret Santa 2019, Magic, No Smut, Sort Of, War, subtle incest i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21908908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywishingglass/pseuds/mywishingglass
Summary: War and Death decide to take another shot at being mortals again. But in order to be together, there is a task they must both fulfill.----Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow are two lonely people just trying to get by during the Christmas season, yet each struggling with their own dark secrets and cursed pasts.How do these two separate storylines intersect? Read on and find out :)
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 96
Kudos: 220





	1. MORS TUA, VITA MEA

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nico_Jero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nico_Jero/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my giftee, @nico-jero
> 
> I'm your Jonerys Secret Santa!
> 
> This story kind of got bigger than I anticipated it would, so I thought that I would break it down into 3 parts and send you one part each day unless Christmas. 
> 
> I got 2 prompts for this story that I sort of combined. The first prompt was something along the lines of Dany and Jon being a part of the Four Horsemen, the second was two lonely people finding solace with each other on Christmas.
> 
> So, it is a little darker than your regular Christmas Hallmark films haha. So just a warning that it's not all fluff, but there will be some moments of it. There's a little mystery and magic here, but I won't spoil it (even though, I'm sure y'all can figure it out)
> 
> I hope you like it! Merry Christmas!!! 
> 
> -chin
> 
> \----
> 
> Special shoutout to my editors as well as to my dear friends (you know who you are) - thank you guys so much for your encouragement and support and for looking over my work. Who knew my biggest bullies would also be my best cheerleaders lol  
> Special special thanks to my Mama - @cmyatt01 - for the BLESSED moodboards. Thanks Mama <3

> " _And another horse went out, fiery red this time._
> 
> _Its rider was given permission to **take peace away** from the earth,_
> 
> _so that people would kill one another. He was given a great sword."_
> 
> _...._
> 
> _"As I looked, there was a pale horse,_
> 
> _and its rider’s name was Death. Hades followed along behind her._
> 
> _She was given authority over a quarter of the earth,_
> 
> _To kill with the sword...and with famine... and with **death**_
> 
> _**-** **Revelation 6: 4 and 8**_

The city was quiet and still for the first time in days. It was a strange and eerie silence as if all sound had been strangled into submission.

A gust of wind swept through the dusty and shattered remains of what was once a vibrant, lively place. Dust and grime covered the mountains of twisted metal and concrete where houses and buildings once stood. A lone flag fluttered on a broken flagpole that somehow managed to remain upright, its base covered with more broken stones and fractured rods of steel.

Amid all the destruction… Death walked past.

Long wistful silver hair drifted down a white robe streaked with gold. Pale white hands and bare feet peeked out from the garment’s long folds. The feathers of two large wings that sprouted from the figure’s back dragged along the dirt road and yet remained as spotless as snow.

Mortals were fond of depicting death as a man or a skeleton garbed in black robes while brandishing a long sharp scythe. Little did they know how truly mistaken they were. Death did not need weapons to reap the souls of mortals.

Death’s pale eyes, almost the colour of faint lilac, scanned the wreckage around her. Searching… waiting…

She paused, her steps coming to a slow halt.

 _There_.

Somewhere beneath the rubble, two small feet could be seen jutting out from underneath a large slab of limestone. A faint bluish glow gleamed from within the ruins of what was once a two-story home, indicative of a soul ripe for the harvest.

Death walked towards it.

_This used to be a happy home. There used to be a garden right over here, a playground over there, and right behind that was where they hung their laundry._

It was a pointless endeavour, fretting over images of what once was and could never be again. Yet, it was an old habit and, like many a stubborn soul, old habits were reluctant to die. 

She finally came upon the tiny spirit. Waving her right hand over it, the ethereal form of a child, no older than five years, arose from its lifeless body.

_So young… to be taken so suddenly and in such a way…_

Yet, Death had taken many more who were younger, some even before they were born. Others had been taken in more brutal and vile ways than what this young soul had endured.

Still… it was a tragedy all the same.

The soul floated toward her. It was a boy. A once rambunctious, scrawny little thing. He had a mother and a sister. Where they were now, Death had not the faintest notion. But it didn’t matter anymore. For his journey would lead him to a place where he would no longer have either.

As the wispy eyes of the child slowly opened, it gazed up at Death with a look of quiet fright.

Death had seen that look far too many times on far too many faces for her to remember. This was not the first time. They all looked the same at the end of it all.

Often, when she felt the whim, she would sit with the spirit to comfort it, or else speak of what was to come. But today was not one of those days.

She was tired. This soul would be her last harvest of the day and she was in no mood to play the part of a doting angel.

_The Angel of Death._

Mortals loved using that title for her. More imagined falsities for their trivial and vain amusements.

But she was no angel. She never was.

Taking the young spirit’s hand in hers, she led him back down the street. Then she released his hand and nudged him forward.

_He would know the way now… they all do once they are reminded…_

The small soul looked back at her, his opaque eyes lost and forlorn. Death pointed forward, urging him on.

After a moment, the child ultimately acquiesced and, in small timid steps, made his way towards the glow of the Pit that would lead him to the world beyond the veil.

When he had disappeared from her sight, Death breathed a long, drawn-out sigh.

It was a productive morning. One that she had not had in a long while.

But that was always the case when He was at work.

As with all things inevitable… Death follows closely at the heels of War. 

A distant flutter caught her ear and she turned and glanced at the sky.

Somehow, he always seemed to know the exact moment to appear. Never too early nor too late. At least this time he was considerate to wait until she had finished.

A soul left too long in a body tended to wander across the earth, aimless and bitter, often with malicious intent, forgetting the way to the Pit.

If there was one thing Death hated more than ghosts, it was incompetence. Ghosts were the breathing forms of her failure in reaping the harvest in time and she would be damned before any more walked free.

Dust swirled and drifted around her as he alighted atop the debris, dark black wings outstretched before folding up behind him.

His sword of fire raged and thrummed in his right hand; the glow of its flames gleamed against his blood-red armour.

“Have all your restless souls been reaped?” Came his offhanded query.

“Yes. For now.” She replied, her voice as thin as air, “But I can only spare a moment. I would not keep the others waiting.”

“Of course.”

With a brush of his hand along the steel of his sword, the flames extinguished from the blade as he sheathed it into its scabbard.

Even now as he stood before her standing as glorious as a noonday sun, she could not help but be entranced by him. His strength, his power, his very aura permeated and stirred the air around her. Had she mortal blood, she would imagine how quickly it would rise at the sight of him.

But War had that effect on everyone. Mortals would cower at his presence or else be driven mad with wrath and vengeance. But to her, all she ever wanted was him. His affection, his desire… his love.

She chastised herself for such thoughts.

_Love? Love is for simple mortals who know nothing apart from their own pitiful, limited lives._

As her pale eyes met with his dark ones, the urgent fire smouldering within them did not escape her notice.

“Must you look upon me in such a manner?” She asked, turning her head away.

“How could I not?”

She offered him her silence as her response. Her hands folding together in front of her.

War chuckled softly, amused at her bashfulness, “Death be not proud. Though some might have called thee, Mighty and Dreadful. For thou art not so.”

At this, Death scoffed, “I’ve heard greater verses from lesser men.”

“Was that what you told him when you came for that poor wretch's soul?”

She gave a soft smile as she mused at the recollection, “No.”

“No?”

Her smile turned coy as she moved past him, “Such things are not for you to know. What Death says to a man is for that man alone and none other.”

He drew closer to her then, a hand moved to brush her colourless cheek, “Not even I?”

Her eyes lifted slowly to look at him.

“Especially not you.”

War reached out and encircled his arms around her waist and brought her head to lay upon his neck. The cold steel of his armour pressed against her sheer robes.

“There is an air of melancholy about you, my love.” He breathed into her ear.

Death closed her eyes as she rested against him, “The harvest has been abundant as of late. The toil has wearied me so. I have you to thank, and you have only yourself to blame, for daunting me with such labour.”

“Forgive me.”

Why he was seeking her forgiveness, she knew not. It was his duty after all, as it was hers to take the souls that he had led to slaughter.

“How long shall the conflict last this time?” She asked.

“As long as men desire it to be. Their enmities run deep and their lust for blood has barely been sated. I hear their prayers to their gods and yet it is my name that they cry out with raucous fervour.” 

She nodded, “I hear those prayers too. But fear lies behind their words. They know not what they ask.”

“They never do.”

Death lifted her head to gaze up into his eyes once more. They were the colour of ominous grey skies and worn gravestones. She could see the cares of his burdens weighed heavily on him as well. Stirring the hearts of men to seek each other’s destruction was not a task to be envied.

“Will you walk with me?” He asked her softly.

She had already tarried for too long. Souls were calling for her. Yet... even now, she was hard-pressed to decline his offer. It was always difficult to refuse him.

She gave a short nod of her head.

War enclosed her hand in his as he walked ahead with her at his side.

The crumbling city of dust and rubble soon faded far behind them. The dirt roads that were littered with rocks and shattered stone turned into an expansive golden desert of blowing sand. Their feathered wings brushing against each other as they walked hand in hand over the dunes.

Standing at a distance was a lone withering tree. Upon its bare, spindly branches sat a murder of crows. Their hoarse caws echoed across the vast wasteland devoid of any other living creature. Beady black eyes blinking down at the two figures that walked towards them.

“Why have you brought me here?” Death asked as War held both her hands in his grasp.

He smiled, “I have a gift for you.”

His hand reached into the hollow of the decaying tree and pulled out a small tear-shaped vial. Death knew at once what he held in his hand.

“Behold. The balm to your melancholy.” He stated with muted flair as he held the glass bottle between his fingers.

“You jest.” She chided with disbelief, her white wings lifting slightly.

“I do not.” He responded, though there was levity in his voice, his gaze was sincere.

She sighed with slight exasperation, “You would seek to have us live as mortals once again? Have you learned nothing from our past experiences? Nothing good has ever come of this folly. Fate never looks kindly upon ones like us who try and play the part of mortals.”

But War was unperturbed as he set the vial on her palm.

“Things will not be as it was before.” He promised with a shake of his head.

Still unconvinced, she frowned as she closed her fingers over the vial, “Do you recall the last time we made such an attempt? You drove a knife into my heart.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “You murdered thousands and would have done worse and more. What choice did I have?”

Death rolled her eyes and brushed past him, “Be that as it may. Not a single one of our encounters have had a pleasant end. Are you certain this is what you desire despite the failures we’ve endured?”

“It is.” He answered, “As much as you may deny it, you want it just as much as I.”

She closed her eyes and took a breath.

Death could never lie, and War spoke only truth. As much as she feared that their mortal lives would come undone as they always did, the temptation of being a mortal again beckoned to her once more.

As weak and limited as they were, humanity was an experience that no power in creation could replicate. Their passion, their resiliency, their ability to create and destroy, their resourcefulness… their desires… not to mention how beautiful they were in all their imperfections.

But how they suffered so. Their hearts were as soft as clouds and they bruised as easily as rose petals. The pain that mortals endured was unlike anything any god could imagine. How could such fragile souls survive such cruelty and misfortune and carry on?

She felt War's touch on her arm, and she opened her eyes to look up at him.

“Must we subject ourselves to more heartache and sorrow, my love? Is not the world already filled with so much of it?” She asked in a morose tone.

His lips grazed the side of her temple, “Do you know why we suffer when we live these mortal lives?”

To that, she had no answer. But she knew that he did.

“The gods are the ones who are truly cursed. So afraid of the power that mortals can bear and what it would mean for a god to assume their form. We lose all recollection of who we are the moment a human heart beats within our breasts.” He moved in front of her and tilted her jaw upwards to face him, “But what if there was a way for us to remember?”

Her brows knotted, “I do not understand. How would that even be possible?”

The side of his lip twitched upwards, “Even the Mighty Father has debts to War. I came to collect what was long overdue.”

“Father sanctioned this?” She asked incredulously, her pale eyes wide with shock.

War nodded and walked back to the tree to procure the second vial from the niche.

“Not only that but no longer shall we have to defer to our dearest brother and sister to carry out our work for us while we are gone. Father himself would see to it.” He explained.

“Indeed.” Death answered, shaking her head, “Humanity would have been lost had we not returned as promptly as we did.”

“Never send Pestilence and Famine to do the work of War and Death, I always say.” He stated lightly before he reached for her hands once more.

“Reluctant as I know you are to believe it; I swear to you by all the gods above and below that this will be the adventure worth more than a thousand souls.”

Death offered him a shaky smile, “It is not that I lack faith in what you say, brother. I do. With all that I am, I do. Only that, given what has happened in our past adventures, I no longer wish to seek a life of grand escapades and thrilling chase. If we are to be mortals once more, would it be too much to ask for a life of simplicity and ease?”

He chuckled once again, “Is a mortal’s life ever one of simplicity and ease?”

But he interrupted her before she could respond, “But I do grasp your meaning. You’ve lived the lives of queens and princesses, from the heights of the most renowned artists down to the most scandalous of mistresses. Politics, intrigue, murder, treachery... you have tasted them all, as have I. Thus, you shall have your wish. A quiet, simple, unexceptional mortal life.”

A wave of relief washed over her as did a small burst of excitement at the thought of this new life unencumbered by complex drama or whirlwind romances.

“But...”

“But?”

_Of course. Of course! There was always a price. Father would never grant us such a thing if it was not without some form of consequence._

As if he read her mind, War grimaced, “You do know our Father. Never one for shortcuts or subtlety. He’s a glutton for the misery of both men and gods and would have us play his game to earn our desires.”

Once more, she sighed deeply, “Pray tell, what is this new charade that he intends for us to perform?”

“There is a spell which will grant us the ability to regain our memories. But the spell requires an incantation that must be spoken by one of us to the other.”

She waited for him to continue but it seemed that was all that he had to say.

“And the incantation?” She prompted.

To her immediate consternation, he shook his head, “Even if I knew, it would be forgotten the moment we awake.”

Her fingers tightened around the glass bottle in her palm as her shoulders dropped, “Then it seems this is a lost cause after all.”

His arm moved suddenly around her to draw her close.

“You say you do not lack faith in me, sister. Does that sentiment remain?” He asked.

Death could see the intensity of his gaze and she knew that War was nothing if not persistent. Once he had his mind set on something, there was no dissuading him from the path that he had chosen.

After a moment, she gave him a soft smile and brought a hand to his face as she replied, “You have all my faith. Always.”

His eyes brightened and there was renewed passion in his tone as he spoke.

“Then what have you to fear? No matter who or where you are. I will find you.”

Death smiled, her pale eyes glistening in the glow of the setting desert sun, “Or perhaps it is I who will find you first.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No.” She opened her palm revealing the small vial, “It’s a promise.”

His black wings spread wide open behind him, covering them both in a feathered shadow. Death followed suit, the rustling of her snow-white feathers closing the circle around them.

The orange sun hovered just above the horizon and the sound of the crows’ caws rose to a deafening cacophony. The winds of the desert slowly rising across the lifeless landscape.

Two empty glass vials lay forgotten in the sand, sinking into the golden gust as a gust of wind blew over them.

“This obsession with us living as mortals… what is it about them that intrigue you so?”

He smirked, “I could pose the same query to you, my love.”

A blanket of dark blue sky followed after the disappearing sun, dusk giving way to night.

“If I had an answer, I would give it to you.” She stated simply, “But I suppose... I envy their souls.”

“What of their souls?”

The crows had taken flight and the beating of their feathers thundered across the darkening dunes.

“They are so delicate and helpless, easily swayed and broken. Yet, they are the strongest beings I have ever seen. No matter how wicked or lonesome or virtuous or heroic they may be. I believe that there is nothing more beautiful or more captivating, than a pure human soul.”

“You speak of them with such depth and devotion. It shames me to reveal that my fascination with living a mortal life is of a more... ignoble nature.”

For the first time in what seemed to be a very long time, Death laughed.


	2. MEDIA VITA IN MORTE SUMUS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Part 2!
> 
> So the next 2 chaps will take place in a Modern AU setting.
> 
> Forgive me, but Modern AU has always been a challenge to write. 
> 
> I hope you like it. 😊
> 
> Btw. Part 3 is still a work in progress and might not get released till after Christmas. Sowee 😔
> 
> -chin

__

> _Just a lonely lonely Christmas_
> 
> _What a glad one it would be_
> 
> _If only my loved one_
> 
> _Would come back to me_
> 
> _Seems like he's been a thousand years_
> 
> _As the days and nights roll by_
> 
> _Ooh yes he's gone away_
> 
> _Oh tell me why_
> 
> _I'll sit and watch as the snowflakes fall_
> 
> _On my window pane_
> 
> _Wishing that my baby would hurry home again_
> 
> _Just a lonely lonely Christmas_
> 
> _For you I yearn_
> 
> _Each night and day I pray_
> 
> _For your return_
> 
> _For your return_
> 
> _- **Just A Lonely Christmas,** The Supremes_

* * *

_Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt! Bzzzt!_

The buzzing sound accompanied by a smartphone’s alarm rang loudly atop a chestnut bedside table.

A groan and a few fumbling hand motions later, the infernal noise was finally silenced.

After a few seconds, the soft rustling of sheets revealed a figure slowly stirring from the bed.

Daenerys Targaryen opened her eyes.

She found herself on her side, her gaze directed towards her bedroom window that was slightly obscured by long, dark purple drapes.

There was no mistaking those sombre grey skies and the wisps of white fluff falling against the windowpane.

It was snowing.

Moving her body, still heavy with lethargy, into a sitting position, Dany ran a hand down her face.

She had that dream again.

Although with every passing second, the details of her dream were already drifting from her. It was like chasing a wave, it pulled away from her the moment she tried to reach for it.

Some days she wondered if they really were dreams. Considering the haze that they always left her with, they almost felt like memories that were struggling to resurface but, for some reason, would not linger with her long enough to remember them.

Shaking her head, she threw her covers off and sat on the edge of her bed.

_Time to get ready..._

After a quick shower and a cup of steaming coffee to begin the day, all remnants of her dreams the night before had completely faded. Instead, as she finished buttering her bagel, her mind had already turned to work. Picking up her smartphone, Dany opened up her email to check for any updates from the night shift team.

She sighed as she discovered two of her patients had passed away in the night. But though she felt the usual twinge of sadness in reading the news, she was also relieved that they were both finally at rest.

Dany was dressed in a set of light pink scrubs pulled over a cream turtleneck top and warm leggings. Cotton socks covered her feet as she paced her small two-bedroom apartment’s kitchen.

Just as she took a bite of her bagel, she heard the sounds of distant music and laughter. Turning around, she moved the small drape out of the way as she peeked outside her kitchen window, looking out into the yard of her next-door neighbour.

She couldn’t help but smile as she watched her neighbour’s two small children build a snowman as Christmas music played from inside their home.

_That’s right… it’s Christmas Eve…_

Dany dropped her hand from the kitchen window’s curtain and leaned against her countertop.

It was December but no one would have known that from walking into her place. Her small but clean apartment was barely furnished and even more sparsely decorated save for a few paintings here and there. There were no photographs of any kind to be seen.

Christmas wasn’t exactly her favourite holiday of the year. In fact, she had no favourite holiday. Holidays were always a painful reminder of what she lacked and well… she didn’t exactly enjoy dwelling on that kind of thing. It was an old wound that hadn’t yet faded with time.

Dany was a simple woman with simple needs. Looking around her kitchen, she realized everything she could ever want was right here in front of her. She had a fridge, a stove with an oven, a few small kitchen appliances and some stools by the counter. She never hosted more than three guests at a time, so she never bothered with getting herself a dining table with chairs.

What constituted her living room space was a long couch, which was a hand-me-down from a university acquaintance who was moving away, a few lamps, end tables, and a bookshelf. There was a coffee table at the center of the room where she usually tossed her mail after retrieving them from her mailbox.

Despite having lived in this apartment for over five years, it barely looked “lived-in”.

A small laptop on her kitchen counter served as one of the two modern technological devices that she owned, the second being her smartphone. But it wasn’t as if she needed anything more than that. Besides, who still watched cable TV in this day and age anyway?

There was a small fireplace as well, but it was boarded up as she had no use for it. A little chill in her home never bothered her. In fact, she almost preferred the cold.

After finishing her breakfast, and rinsing her mug and butter knife, Dany went to retrieve her coat and scarf from the coat hanger by the front door. She slipped her feet into a pair of black winter boots and slung her purse over her shoulder.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror and paused.

At just twenty-eight, Dany thought that she looked older than she appeared. Lines were starting to appear at the corners of her face and her blue-grey eyes seemed to take on a darker shade. Her platinum blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail with a braided crown in the front.

She turned her head away and begun to button up her coat.

Looking back at her quiet, unembellished home, she gave a deep sigh before opening her front door and walking out into the cold wintery day.

* * *

Daenerys Targaryen was cursed.

Of that fact, she was completely, resolutely certain. Strange, given that she told herself and others, that no one could be certain of anything in this world. But how else could she explain the series of unfortunate events that seemed to haunt her at every moment of her life?

Her parents both died when she was just an infant. A car accident, they told her, but no one really knew. She had two brothers. But they were dead too.

Her oldest brother had gotten into a quarrel with another man over a woman. His body was found floating in the river the next day, his chest covered in stab wounds. 

Her other brother had taken to gambling and owed multiple debts to various loan sharks and drug lords. They found him in the sewers after he had gone missing for a week. A golden bullet buried in his brain.

She was passed on from one obscure relative to another. When social services finally came for her, she was moved from one group home or foster family to another until the day she finally turned eighteen.

Dany had learned a long time ago that relationships were never something that would be a permanent fixture in her life. It seemed that no matter what she did, anyone that she formed any long-lasting or substantial connection to would be mysteriously taken from her.

When she was twelve, she met her first boyfriend in middle school. He drowned in the school’s pool after his leg cramped and the lifeguard had taken that inopportune time to use the bathroom.

Her next boyfriend was a boy she had met at a group home when she was sixteen. They had stolen some lobster rolls from a seafood restaurant and were just about to share their first kiss. But then he collapsed, choking and gasping on the ground. Turns out, he hadn’t known that he was deathly allergic to shellfish. He died in the hospital later that night.

On and on it went. It wasn’t just boyfriends either who suffered this fate. Dany never had a group of best friends that lasted for longer than a year before one of them would either fall gravely ill or suffer some sort of accident.

If anything, her one constant companion… was death.

For her future career path, it seemed to Dany that the options were crystal clear. She could either work in a funeral home or she could work in a hospital. Two places where death seemed more than happy to lurk in every corner.

After realizing that she would rather spend her time working with living people rather than dead ones, Dany applied and was accepted into a prestigious nursing school in the city.

When it came time to decide the area of nursing she would specialize in, it seemed that being a hospice nurse was a no-brainer. If harbouring death’s shadow was indeed her curse, there really was no better place for Dany to be at than at a center where death was welcomed with open arms.

A year after her graduation, Dany found employment at Good Alysanne’s Center for Hospice Care in downtown King’s Landing. One of the largest and oldest hospices in the country.

It was to this place that Dany was currently making her way to on a snowy Christmas Eve day.

* * *

Her boots crunched over the freshly fallen snow as Dany walked towards the entrance of the hospice. Passing through the double automatic doors, she stepped into the spacious main lobby.

Unlike her home, the hospice lobby was ostentatiously decorated with Christmas trimmings. Snowflake stickers covered every glass window, wreaths were hung on hooks on the walls and twinkling Christmas lights snaked around the pillars in the waiting area.

At the center of the lobby was a ten-foot-tall artificial Christmas tree furbished with red and gold ornaments, glittering garlands and a large ornate Seven-Pointed Star sat at the top of the tree.

After a courtesy wave and greeting to the receptionist, she took out her I.D. badge and tapped it on the scanner in front of the door that led to the patients’ rooms. Once unlocked, Dany pulled the door open and started towards the nurse’s locker rooms.

A few voices called out to greet her as she opened the door and stepped in. Dany smiled and responded in kind as she headed over to her locker.

“Hey, Dany!”

“Oh, good morning Missy.” Dany replied as one of the nurses approached her.

“Sleep well last night?” Missandei Naathi asked suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows up and down as she sat on the low wooden bench behind Dany.

“What do you mean?” Dany asked with a confused smile as she shrugged off her coat and scarf and stowed them into her locker along with her purse and boots. Taking out her smartphone from her coat, she slipped it into the pocket of her scrubs.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t sleep with him!” Came Missandei’s exasperated comment.

“With who now?” Dany asked as she took out her red and black runners and slipped them on, bending down to tie her shoelaces.

“That really cute guy who came to visit Mrs. Velaryon yesterday. Her grandson or something like that?”

Dany rolled her eyes as she muttered, “Missandei. You are bloody ridiculous.”

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing happened, alright?” Dany stated pointedly as she tightened the laces of her right shoe.

“He asked for your number, didn’t he?” Missandei pressed on excitedly.

“Yes, and I said that I wasn’t interested.” Dany closed her locker door and leaned against it, folding her arms across her chest as she faced Missandei.

The younger nurse shook her head with disbelief, “Why do you do this, Dany?”

“Do what?”

“Deliberately sabotage any chance of finding happiness with someone!” Missandei exclaimed.

Dany laughed, “Who said I needed someone to be happy? I’m perfectly fine on my own. Besides, it’s not like I _don’t_ date.”

There was a frown on her friend’s face as she responded, “You know Tinder hookups don’t count as dating, right?”

Dany rolled her eyes once more as she bunched up her long sleeves to her elbows.

“Missy, relax, okay? I guess… maybe I’m just not ready for a relationship, that’s all.”

Suddenly the door opened revealing the stern face of their head nurse, “It’s not happy hour ladies, your shift started two minutes ago!”

There was a shuffling noise as the other nurses hurriedly packed away their things and made their way out of the room.

Dany was relieved at the interruption, hoping that it would be enough to get her nosy coworker off her back. However, Missandei remained as persistent as ever.

“Dany, when was the last time you even had a real relationship? A year? Two years ago? Plus, you don’t even have a dog or a cat or even a fucking goldfish at home to keep you company.”

“I told you. I don’t have the time or the energy to take care of a pet, I’m just--"

“Too busy with work, I know, I know.” Missy said as she finished Dany's sentence, waving her hand dismissively as they exited the locker room, “But still, Daenerys, no one should be alone on Christmas, least of all, you.”

“I won’t be alone.” Dany stated, “I’ll be here.”

“Well, I think you should consider that there is a world outside of Good Alysanne’s, you know.” Missy countered.

Their shoes squeaked on the spotless vinyl floors down as they walked down the hallway.

Making their way to the nurses' station. Missandei finally stopped hounding her as Dany went to retrieve her patients' files.

Just as Dany started to flip through the first folder, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

Dany turned to see Margaery Tyrell, the nurse who did the previous night rounds for her patients, standing behind her.

“Oh, hey Marg. What’s up?” Dany asked in a concerned tone, noting the look on Marg’s face.

“Sorry about this Dany but Septa Wylla wants to see you in her office.”

Dany felt her stomach suddenly turn, “The director wants to see me?”

Margaery nodded, “She asked me to come and tell you the moment you got in. We can do the handoff report when you get back.”

Dany hummed with understanding, “Alright, then. Thanks, Marg.”

“No problem, Dany.” Margaery stated as she reached over to take Dany's files from the counter.

Dany started towards the elevators that would take her to the director's office on the fifth floor. Once she was inside and had pressed the circular button with the number five on it, Dany felt her palms begin to sweat.

She brushed her hands down the side of her scrubs and took several deep breaths to calm her nerves.

There were only two reasons why the director would want to see her. It was either she had done something really, really good or something really, really bad.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened up to the fifth floor. As Dany stepped out, septas dressed in their pale blue wimples and white robes passed her by. She greeted them respectfully as she walked down the hallway towards the director's office.

Good Alysanne's was run primarily by the Septas of Mother’s Mercy and received funding from the Faith of the Seven at King's Landing. Although most of the staff were comprised of secular health care professionals, the septas handled all the administrative responsibilities of the center as well as provided spiritual care to the patients.

Dany finally reached the oaken door with frosted glass that had Septa Wylla's title and name on a plaque beside it.

Taking another deep breath, Dany rapped carefully on the glass.

“Come in.” She heard a voice say from the other side. Dany turned the handle and entered the director's office.

Bookcases filled with tomes of different shapes and sizes lined the walls. The Seven-Pointed Star was on all the windows as well as on the wall behind the director’s desk.

Sitting behind the long wooden desk was Septa Wylla. A plump woman in her late sixties, she was an amiable enough director though her statements were usually direct and straight to the point without much need for unnecessary small talk. Her wimple was of a dark navy blue colour and Dany could see a pink knitted sweater underneath her white robes.

Stacks of folders, documents and books were neatly stacked on her desk. To her right were two computer monitors, a black keyboard and a small white mouse atop a mousepad with Good Alysanne's logo on it.

When Dany closed the door behind her, Septa Wylla looked up from the paper she was reading, peering at Dany over her spectacles.

“You asked to see me, Septa?” Dany asked as she walked in with her hands folded together to keep from fidgeting.

“I did. Please, have a seat, Miss Targaryen.” Septa Wylla answered with a tight smile as she gestured to one of the two cushioned seats across from her.

Dany pressed her lips together as she gingerly sat on one of the chairs, her hands tightening.

There was a moment of silence as Septa Wylla returned to the paper in her hand.

Just when Dany was beginning to consider saying something, Septa Wylla removed her glasses and set them down on the table.

“You’ve been working as a nurse at Good Alysanne's for how many years now?”

“Four years this coming March, Septa.” Dany answered.

The director nodded, “And since you’ve started working with us, you’ve spent every holiday, including Christmas, here. Is that correct?”

Dany forced a smile, “The other staff have family, children, other obligations. I don’t. I can spare the days. Besides, I like spending my holidays with the patients.”

Septa Wylla nodded, “That is certainly very generous of you.”

“Uh… thanks.” Dany said, with a bashful shrug of her shoulders.

_Maybe this isn’t going to be as bad as I thought._

“I did not mean that as a compliment.”

Dany's face fell.

_Alright, then again, maybe it is._

“We have a strict policy here, Miss Targaryen, in regards to our staff maintaining a wholesome work-life balance. After all, our patients deserve the best care provided by the best people. But you cannot be the best unless you treat yourself with the same respect and dignity we provide to the patients we serve.”

“Septa Wylla,” Dany began with a shaky smile, “I can assure you that the efficiency and quality of my work, as well as the well-being of my patients, have always been my top priorities. Working during the holidays has had no impact on the quality of care my patients receive.”

Septa Wylla donned her small spectacles once again and read over the paper in front of her.

“According to this report given by your head nurse, you’ve also been taking several extra shifts per week and have worked several overnights and weekends the past three months.”

_Fuck._

“I can explain. There’s just been a horrible flu that’s been making its rounds and several of the nursing staff have been--"

But the director held up her hand to stop her and Dany bit her lip.

“I know about the flu, Miss Targaryen. But that is not what is being discussed here.”

Dany held her breath.

_I’m going to get fired, aren’t I?_

“As much as this may be difficult for you to hear but I am recommending to your head nurse to give you a one month leave of absence, beginning tomorrow.”

Dany's mouth hung open, “But…but…”

“Don’t worry about it coming out of your pay as this will be covered. There is a reason we provide such excellent benefit packages to our employees and I strongly urge you to take advantage of them in the future. We can’t have burnt out nurses in our center, Miss Targaryen, and you are indeed one of our better ones. This you can certainly take as a compliment.”

The director offered Dany a sympathetic look.

She opened her mouth intending to argue but all that came out was, “Thank you, Septa Wylla.”

The Septa nodded, satisfied with the result of the discussion, “Excellent, then that should be all. Good day, Miss Targaryen and do consider making the most of your time off. The light of the Seven be with you.”

Dany exhaled silently as she rose from the chair. But just as she was about to leave, she turned to face Septa Wylla once again.

“Septa, my great uncle Aemon is still a patient here. Might I still be able to come and see him?” Dany asked.

Septa Wylla lowered her glasses in her hand, “Why, of course, Miss Targaryen. I do believe you should use your holidays to spend with the ones you love. But remember, all visitors are welcome during _regular_ visiting hours. Happy Christmas.”

Dany’s lip twitched slightly before she gave a respectful bow of her head, “Thank you, Septa and... Happy Christmas to you as well.”

As Dany left the director's office and made her way back down to the main floor, she leaned her back against the elevator's walls.

Shutting her eyes, she gave a silent prayer of thanks to the gods that she still had a job. But a month’s leave of absence? What in seven hells was she going to do with all that time? Sit at home and binge watch tv shows all day?

It was then that she thought of her great Uncle Aemon.

A few months ago, Dany had thought she had no family left in the world until she received a call from the Night’s Watch, a specialized military branch that operated in the far North. They had tracked her down as the last living relative of Dr. Aemon Targaryen. He was the former Head Maester of the Night’s Watch who had retired many years ago but, due to his old age and illness, was no longer capable of living on his own in their retirement quarters in the North.

He had been diagnosed with stage IV brain cancer and had become permanently blind as a result of the tumour. She was told that his prognosis gave him at least a few more months left to live. Without a second thought, Dany had him admitted to Good Alysanne's straight away. Although she was both excited and relieved to find out that she was not the last Targaryen left, it was a bittersweet realization to know that her time with her last living relative would be short-lived.

Still, Dany ensured that she made the most of the time they had left together.

 _I should probably check in on him soon._ She thought, making a mental note to stop by his room during her break.

Once she returned to her floor, Margaery was waiting for her at the nurse's station.

“Thanks again, Marg.” Dany said, smiling at her, “Ready to go?”

“Yup. They’ve all just started waking up and about to have breakfast.” Margaery stated and then handing Dany a clipboard, they started their morning rounds.

With the passing of two of her patients, Dany had to immediately process two new intakes which she and Marg both did together. Settling the new patients into their rooms, speaking to their family members and then taking notes while the doctor assessed the patient.

Then it was on to the three other patients in her care. After checking in with each of them, ensuring that their medications were taken and they were happy and comfortable, Margaery and Dany returned to the nurses' station.

“Okay, I think that should be everything. I know Mr. Selmy had a rough night last night but he seems to be getting on alright this morning.” Dany stated as she took out a pen from the breast pocket of her scrubs.

Marg nodded, “Yes, Dr. Tarth increased his morphine drip. That seemed to have calmed him down.”

Dany scribbled a few notes in Mr. Selmy's file, “Great. Okay, I can take it from here, Marg. You should go home and get some rest.”

But instead of walking away, Margaery gave a cautious glance around before she leaned in close to Dany, “She didn’t say this when we checked in on her but, I did want to let you know, Mrs. Redwyne has been asking around for cigarettes again.”

Dany shook her head with disbelief, “Honestly, that woman. If I told her once, I told her a thousand times. This is a non-smoking facility. She knows this!”

Dany clucked her tongue as she turned to face Marg, “Would she take nicotine patches?”

Marg gave her a knowing look, “You know the answer to that question.”

With a frustrated sigh, Dany quickly checked the clipboards of her other patients, “Alright. I’ll pop by the corner store and grab her a pack. Cover for me?”

“Already on it.” Margaery stated with a wink, “Don’t take too long or else the Crone will start to notice.”

The Crone being Head Nurse Lysa Arryn, a grouchy middle-aged nurse who kept a hawk-like watch on all of the nurses on staff.

“I’ll be back in ten or less.” Dany reassured her as she turned on her heel and made her way back to the locker room to grab her coat and scarf.

* * *

A tinkle of a bell rung as Dany pushed open the glass door to the convenience store. Stomping the snow off her feet on the thin rug, she started towards the counter where a skinny old man was sitting, his face hidden behind a large print newspaper.

“Hi. Can I get a pack of Kraken Lights, please?” She requested, a little too hurriedly.

The man grunted and without even a glance at her, pulled a small yellow box of cigarettes from the plastic case behind him and tossed it idly on to the counter.

“Uh, thanks.” Dany said, then her eyes caught on the stack of chocolate bars in a small red bin in front of her.

_Aemon might like these. He’s always had a sweet tooth._

Taking two of the chocolate bars, she set them on the counter, “I’ll take two of these as well.”

“Nine fifty.” A grumbled voice stated dryly.

Digging into her pocket, Dany pulled out a crumpled green banknote that bore the symbols of ten small golden dragons.

“Keep the change.” Dany responded in a slightly droll voice as she slipped the pack of cigarettes and chocolate bars into her pocket.

 _Seriously, do people just not bother making eye contact anymore? What ever happened to decent human interaction?_

Just as these questions and more flitted through Dany’s distracted mind, right when she exited the corner store, her shoe slipped on a patch of black ice sending her down with her back slapping on the cold paved sidewalk.

“Seven fucking hells!” Dany cursed as she found herself gazing up at the light grey cloudy skies. 

Exasperated with the events of the day, Dany remained on the ground, wondering what she did to deserve all this.

“You've been lying there awhile. Is the view really that good?” A voice in a thick Northern accent said to her.

_It gets fucking better. Someone actually saw me making a complete fool of myself. Great job, Dany!_

“It’s great. It’s... fucking great.” She replied irritably.

“Need a hand?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the witness to her fall approach her.

A young man who looked like he was in his mid-twenties extended a hand to her. He was dressed in a rust-red bomber jacket and dark jeans. Dark black curls framed the sides of his bearded face as he looked down at her with a lopsided smile.

“Sure. Why not? I’ve embarrassed myself enough today it seems.” Dany replied and took the man’s outstretched hand.

He lifted her up easily, steadying her when she finally got to her feet.

“Thank you.” Dany said, a tinge of red on her cheeks.

“Not a problem. You look like you’ve had quite a day.” The man commented.

Dany nodded as she brushed the snow off the back of her coat, “It’s just one of those days, you know.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” He responded though she could tell by his tone that he was half-joking.

But she decided not to pry.

“Oh, hey, don’t forget these.” He said. Dany looked up and saw the pack of cigarettes in his hand.

“Right.” She reached out and took the pack from him, returning it to her pocket.

“Need a light?”

“Oh, no. These aren’t for me.” Dany explained, shaking her head, “They’re for a patient.”

“Doctor?” He asked, noting the pink scrubs that were visible through her unbuttoned coat. 

“No, I’m a nurse. I work at Good Alysanne’s.” Dany stated, gesturing her head towards the hospice.

His eyebrows raised, “Never heard of a nurse encouraging patients to smoke before.”

Dany chuckled, “Believe me. If you only knew this patient. She can stir up quite a fuss.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between them, which he quickly broke.

“Right. Well, I hope you manage to get back without any other incident or else you might end up a patient yourself.” He said with a polite nod of his head. Dany noticed then that his eyes were a dark shade of chocolate brown, the longer she stared at him.

“I’ll try. Thanks, again.” Dany said with a flimsy wave of her hand as she turned to start walking back in the direction of the hospice.

Just as she did so, her conversation with Missandei from earlier that morning came back to her. Although she knew it was probably a bad idea, given her “curse” and all, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get to know this guy a little better. He did seem rather... familiar, for some reason. Yet Dany couldn’t seem to place where she had seen him before.

“Hey, I was wondering if--” Dany started to say as she stopped and turned around.

_Aannnd he’s gone._

It was as if he had vanished, like a ghost of some sort. Mentally kicking herself for yet another fluke of the day, Dany groaned with frustration as she marched herself forward.

_Really. It can’t get any worse, can it?_

As she walked back through the gates of Good Alysanne’s, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of loud caws. Looking up, Dany observed a few crows making themselves comfortable atop a statue of The Stranger situated in the middle of the rotunda leading up to the hospice.

Though she knew that she should be hurrying back inside, for some reason she couldn’t help but be entranced by the macabre statue that fronted the palliative care establishment she worked for. Dany always wondered why they had chosen the Stranger to be the one who stood at the entrance of the hospice, given that the Septas of Mother’s Mercy were the ones who were running the organization.

She glanced up at the hooded figure that seemed to hide what looked to be a skeleton underneath its clay carved veil. Spiny grey wings sprouted from its back and on its feet were a collection of various human skulls. The crows that adorned the top of the figure’s head and shoulders continued to caw and titter as they flapped their black wings.

Dany abhorred The Stranger above the rest of the Seven. Why the god of death had such an obsessive interest in her life, she didn’t know. But he sure as hell wasn’t making it any easier or better.

Scowling at the statue, Dany turned her head away and continued towards the hospice, shrill caws following after her.

_Fucking crows..._

* * *

The afternoon went on much better than the morning, with everything falling into its usual routine and rhythm.

Dany had slipped the pack of cigarettes underneath Mrs. Redwyne’s pillow with a warning look at the old woman who giggled behind her crocheting.

Her rounds went off without any major incident as well. Everyone had a rather calm lunch and afternoon activities were progressing expectedly. One of the hospice volunteers started an impromptu Christmas carol sing-a-long on the grand piano in the shared common space, which the patients seemed to enjoy.

As Dany was typing her case notes into one of the portable computer stations, she heard the sound of footsteps running towards her.

“Dany.”

She turned to see one of the male nurses approach her in a hurry. A look of urgency in his eyes.

Before he could open his mouth, she immediately knew what the problem was.

“Uncle Aemon?” Dany asked.

Greyson Sully nodded, “He’s calling out for his brother again… and he’s thrashing all over the place. We don’t want to have to give him another sedative.”

“Let’s go.” Dany said as she hurriedly typed the last sentence on the computer and logged off.

She followed behind Grey as he walked briskly down the hall towards the opposite wing of the hospice.

Outside one of the patient's rooms, a few nurses and orderlies gathered around in curiosity and concern as the sound of breaking glass and heavy thuds resounded from inside.

“Egg! Egg! You little shit! You fucking parasite! Get out! GET OUT!” She heard the wild, croaky voice of her great uncle’s rage from all the way down the hall.

“Dr. Targaryen! Sir! Please! You have to calm down or you’ll be sedated and restrained.”

Dany heard the voice of the Head Nurse from inside the room as well.

When she and Grey entered his room, Dany could see that her great uncle was in one of his fitful temper tantrums again.

Two male nurses were attempting to bring him back to his bed. His tray of food along with a shattered vase of flowers were strewn all over the floor. Aemon was half-naked as he had partially torn his robes apart and his IV had been ripped from his arm, sending thin tendrils of blood dripping to the floor. The Head Nurse had a syringe in her hand, no doubt prepared with a sedative to administer.

“Uncle Aemon!” Dany called out to him as she rushed to his side and held his face in her hand. His sightless eyes were fluttering wildly as tried to push away his detainers.

“Uncle Aemon... Uncle Aemon. Listen. Its Dany. Remember? It’s Dany, I’m right here. Everything is alright. I got you. Okay?” Dany stated as she silently gestured to the two male nurses to release him.

Her uncle seemed to pause in his ravings once he heard her voice, “Egg? Egg? Is that you, Egg? I can’t see, Egg! I can’t see!”

“It’s alright, Uncle Aemon. It’s Dany. Can you hold on to me? Let’s get you back into bed. I’m right here. Everything is going to be alright.” She said in a soothing tone as she held her great uncle’s thin, frail arms in her own as she nodded to the two other nurses to release their hold on him.

Dany had hoped that she wouldn’t need to have him sedated. Her uncle didn’t respond too well to benzodiazepines and they, more often than not, did more harm than good.

Thankfully, Aemon seemed to calm when he felt her touch and, like a child, allowed himself to be led back to his bed. His white hair was thinning atop his wrinkled head and his dark blue eyes stared off blankly into the distance. Dany slowly and carefully brought him over to his bed, she noticed that his sheets were stained. She was able to reach for an extra blanket underneath the bed and lay it out over the bed with one hand as she helped him to lie back down on it with the other.

“Daenerys--” The Head Nurse started to say before Dany stopped her with a finger to her lips.

“I have him.” She mouthed to her with a look of calm severity.

“Egg... Tell me what happened, Egg... Tell me...” Aemon muttered as he lay his head back down on the pillow.

Everyone in the room remained still until Aemon had closed his eyes and seemingly drifted off to sleep. Dany released the breath that she had been holding as she turned to face the others.

“If it’s alright with you, I would like to stay with my uncle, Mrs. Arryn. Just to make sure he’s alright.” Dany stated in a low voice as she glanced towards the Head Nurse.

A cross look came over the Head Nurse’s face but given that there was other staff present, she merely huffed her assent and walked out of the room. The rest of the nurses followed suit.

Grey, however, stayed behind, bending down as he attempted to clean up the chaos of the room.

Dany shook her head, “Leave it, Grey. I’ll take care of it.”

“But Dany--”

“I’ll take care of it.” Dany repeated, the stern look in her blue-grey eyes indicated nothing was going to change her mind.

Grey took a breath and slowly nodded, “I’ll be back to check in a little bit.”

“Yeah, alright.” Dany said as she turned back to look at her uncle, “He’ll need new sheets. But I can change it when he wakes up.”

She didn’t hear him leave as she took her uncle’s hand in hers. The exertion from his outburst would knock him out for an hour or two. She patted his hand before she lay it back on his side.

Straightening up, she looked around at the mess before her and sighed deeply.

His arm was still bleeding from where he had ripped his IV out. Dany decided that would be the first thing she would attend to first before anything else. She shook her head slightly as she rested her hands on her hips and gazed down at her uncle.

_Always leaving me to clean up your messes, huh, Uncle Aemon?_

* * *

A small squeeze on her hand woke her. She hadn’t realized that she had dozed off as she jerked her head up.

“Uncle Aemon?”

“Dany...” His voice was raspy. Dany surmised it must feel sore from all his yelling from before. But the fact that he was lucid again made her feel a sense of relief.

“Let me get you some water.” She said and started to get up from her seat when his hand tightened around her wrist.

“I had that dream again. Of Egg. He was... He was laughing at me. He told me I could never run... fast enough to catch him.” Aemon coughed, interrupting himself.

Dany stood up and from a side table, she poured water in a glass and picked up a straw from a small metal container next to it.

“Here. Drink.” Dany coaxed as she brought the straw to his lips.

Thankfully, Aemon did as she asked and through occasional heaves was able to take a few sips of water.

After he had finished, Dany placed the glass on the table beside the bed and held his hand again in hers.

“Have I told you about my brother, Egg, Dany? He was a brilliant piano player.” Aemon started, a faded smile on his lips.

Dany had heard this story a thousand times, but she smiled and replied, “No, Uncle Aemon. Tell me more about him.”

Aegon Targaryen, or Egg as he was called, was Aemon’s younger brother. He had died at the young age of eighteen when he had signed up for the Westerosi Army and was deployed east of Yi Ti. They said his platoon was ambushed by rebels, but his body was never recovered. Aemon was already part of the Night’s Watch at this time and was on a special mission in the FrostFangs. His mission required complete radio silence and so he didn’t even know that Egg was missing or dead until a year later. 

That was over fifty years ago.

“Do you know... Egg made a drawing for me for my birthday.”

Dany’s eyebrows raised. This was new information.

“He was an artist too?” She asked with interest.

“Aye,” Aemon answered emphatically, “He liked to use charcoal and chalk instead of paint. Such marvellous drawings they were...”

The old man sat up a little from his bed and patted Dany’s arm, “I... I had his drawing with me in the North. B-but I don’t remember if they brought it here. Would you, would you be a dear and check my closet for me?”

“Of course, Uncle.” Dany responded with a smile.

She got up from her seat once again and walked towards the closet doors right across from his bed. Opening the closet, the first thing she noticed was various shirts, sweaters and suits on white, plastic hangers. A small shoe rack at the bottom held at least five different pairs of loafers and dress shoes. Dany pushed the shoe rack aside and there at the back end of the closet, hidden behind a few shoeboxes, was a flat rectangular object wrapped in brown paper and tied with brown twine.

“I found it!” Dany said as she pushed aside the shoeboxes and carefully extricated the item from the back of the closet.

Dany could feel the edges of a heavy frame as she dragged the painting out.

“Would you want me to open it and hang it up, Uncle? It’s wrapped up right now.” Dany said as she looked back at Aemon.

The old man shook his head, “No, no! It’s for you, Dany. Your Christmas present.”

Dany gave a laugh of surprise, “A Christmas present? How do you even know it’s Christmas?”

Aemon frowned, “I may be blind, young lady, but I’m not fucking deaf or stupid.”

She laughed again, shaking her head at his crass response, “Of course not. But Uncle... I can’t take this. It was Egg’s birthday present for you.”

The frown eased upon his face and he beckoned to her, “Come here, my girl.”

Dany lay the painting against the foot of his bed and sat next to him. When he felt her weight on the bed, he reached for her hands.

“You know, Christmas was Egg’s favourite time of the year. He loved to go sledding and we would make the most outrageous snowmen.” Aemon reminisced, chuckling.

Dany couldn’t help but smile as well, a warmth blossoming within her as she listened to him.

“Who... Who are you spending Christmas with, my dear?” Aemon suddenly asked her.

She patted his hands, “Why with my favourite uncle, of course. Do you really think I would forget you on Christmas?”

A strange, misty expression came upon his face.

“What’s wrong, Uncle Aemon?” She asked.

His grip on her hands suddenly tightened, “Listen to me, my girl. I know... I won’t be here for far longer. You’ve been so good...so kind to me and... I only wish I knew of you years ago. I should have cared for you when you had no one.”

For some reason, Dany felt a surge of emotion in her chest and she swallowed down the tears that were threatening to come up, “Now, Uncle Aemon, the past is past. Let’s not get sentimental now.”

“I just want you to happy. You so deserve more than to waste your days with an old grouch like me. You should be with someone...”

Then a faraway look came into his eyes as he turned his head to the side, “Egg calls to me, Dany. I can hear him. He wants me to go with him and I... I want to.” Aemon said, though there was a faint smile on his face as he spoke, “And Death... _she_ is coming for me.”

Dany shook her head and squeezed his hands, “The Stranger isn’t a woman, Uncle, and you... you can’t leave me yet. Not on Christmas at least.”

 _“Valar Morghulis.”_ Aemon whispered, “All men must die.” 

Aemon leaned closer to her.

“Death comes for us all, Dany. Never on our time of course. But her time is always the right one.” His words were slurring slightly, “I can see her... It’s almost like... she’s right here...”

“Uncle Aemon?” Dany noticed that he was slipping away once again.

“When you see Egg’s drawing, you’ll understand.” He stated as he rested his head back on his pillow, “Take it. Open it on Christmas Day. Promise me, you will.”

Dany nodded as she felt tears start to sting her eyes, “Yes, I will. I promise.”

She could his lids flutter before it finally closed. He had drifted off to sleep once again.

As tears started to trail down her cheeks, Dany bit her lip hard.

_It’s happening again..._

Death had come once more to claim someone she loved.

Her lips trembled as she took a deep, shaking breath, trying to calm herself. She couldn’t break down. Not here. Not now.

_Be strong, Dany... You can do this..._

Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Dany quickly swiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. A curly-haired head peeked in.

“Hey.”

It was Missandei. She had her coat on and her small backpack hung over her left shoulder.

“Just checking in on you. See if everything’s alright. I’m just about to head out.” Missandei explained with a look of concern in her face.

Dany gave her a small smile, “I’m fine. He’s fine. We... are all fine.”

“Alright then. Well, I guess I won’t see you till after Christmas. I’m off for the next few days.”

“Right.” Dany said, remembering Missy had told her this a while ago.

“Listen,” Missy started, “A few of us are going out for some Christmas Eve drinks at the Tavern around nine. Want to hang out and meet us there later?”

It seemed so easy to say yes. Dany wanted to but she knew that she couldn’t. She could already feel her heart sinking as she swallowed. She hated this part. Hated the lies she had to tell. Hated the look of rejection on the faces of those who wanted to get to know her better.

But it was for their own good, for the sake of their lives. Dany knew that she brought nothing but death and misery. Missy was a young, bright soul. Dany wouldn’t take that away, not even for the sake of a friendship that could have lasted a lifetime.

“I... I would love to, honest, I would. But--”

Missy sighed as she finished, “But you’re too busy with work. Got it.”

“Another time, perhaps?” Dany offered with a weak smile.

“Sure.” Missy responded though Dany could hear the half-hearted tone in her voice, “Well, then… Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.”

Just as Missandei turned away, Grey entered the room with a tray of food.

“Hanging in there?” Grey commented with a friendly smirk as he set the tray down on the rolling table at the end of Aemon’s bed.

Dany brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear as she breathed out, “Yeah... kinda. He was up for a bit, now he’s gone back to sleep.”

“Alright, I think I can take it from here, Dany.”

Dany nodded. Her shift was up anyway and she had to do one last check of her patients before her one month leave kicked in.

When she stood up, she remembered the chocolate bars that she had gotten from the corner store earlier. She reached into her pocket and took one of the bars out.

“I know this isn’t one of the ‘approved' dietary items... But would you give him this when he wakes up? Tell him it’s my Christmas present for him.” Dany requested as she lay the treat on the dining tray.

Grey grinned back, “The old man would love it.”

“Thanks.” Dany responded as she took one last look at Aemon. Then her eyes caught the wrapped painting still leaning against the foot of the bed.

“Hey, Grey.”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Did you drive here today?” She asked.

Grey proceeded to gather the soiled sheets that Dany had removed from the bed, stuffing them into a plastic bag, “Yep. I mean, what with the snow and all, no other choice but to drive.”

‘Right. Not all of us are as lucky.” Dany chuckled as she placed a hand atop the covered frame, “Might need to ask one more favour of you. I was wondering... if it isn’t any trouble... would you mind dropping this package off at my place? I can give you my key and you can drop it in my mailbox on your way out?”

Grey looked over at the package that she was indicating and shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, of course. Shouldn’t be a problem. It’s on my way anyway.”

"Hope it won’t be too heavy for you.” Dany said in a mildly teasing tone.

Grey playfully flexed his biceps in response, “Do you not see these? I can carry an elephant with these guns.”

Dany laughed as she rolled her eyes and shook her head, making her way to the door, “I’ll leave my key at the nurse’s station. Thank you, Grey.”

“Anytime. Happy Christmas!” He said with a wave.

Dany smiled back as she opened the door.

“Happy Christmas.”

* * *

By the time Dany had left the hospice, dusk had just settled in. The last glow of sunset still stained the slowly darkening sky with hues of dark purple and orange-pink. It was colder than it was when she was last out as she walked towards the bus stop. Her hands were stuffed deep into her pockets as she passed underneath the orange glow of the street lamps.

Luckily for her, it didn’t take long for the bus she had to take back to her apartment on the east side of King’s Landing to arrive. It pulled up alongside the curb just as she reached the stop.

After dropping her fare into the metal box by the driver, Dany settled into one of the plastic seats and made herself comfortable. She felt a buzzing in her coat pocket just as she rested her head against the fogged-up window.

Pulling her phone out, she saw a message from Missy.

_We’re still here if you change your mind <3_

A selfie of Missy and Margaery grinning happily as they held up cocktail drinks in their hand followed immediately after the text message.

Dany felt a lump in her throat as she lowered the phone to her lap.

_No one should be alone on Christmas..._

_Use the holidays to spend with the ones you love..._

_Be with someone..._

Echoes of voices from various individuals resounded in her head.

_The ones I love? Who else did I have besides Uncle Aemon? And he’s dying... he doesn’t have long..._

Her eyes closed as she took a steadying breath.

_Is death really all I’m good for?_

The Tavern was only a block away from her apartment. She was sure it wouldn’t hurt just to drop in for a minute. What’s the harm in having a drink or two with coworkers?

_Don’t be a moron, Daenerys. You know how this plays out. Remember high school... remember nursing school... remember college clubs? Do you really think Missy and Margaery deserve their lives to be cut short because you can’t handle being alone at Christmas?_

Yet, as the bus came to a halt and Dany walked down its steps and back out into the cold, her feet were leading her towards the pub rather than towards her apartment.

Cars were lined up on all corners and sidewalks for miles. Streams of people were moving in and out of the various dining establishments along the strip of restaurants and pubs along the main thoroughfare. Festive music and excited chatter filled the air.

As she continued to debate with herself, soon enough, Dany looked up to see the three-story pub house before her. The Tavern was a well-known hang out for many young, single professionals in the city. It was well-furnished with excellent service and yet it maintained the classic, rustic vibe of its medieval roots. There was usually live music that played well into the morning hours and for Christmas, all their holiday specials would be half off at midnight.

But as Dany continued to stare up at the pub’s logo and sign, her feet remained glued to the snowy ground.

_Fuck. What am I even doing here? This is ridiculous._

Cursing under her breath, Dany turned around and set off towards the direction of her apartment.

But then, just as she turned into a quieter, less busy street and passed a dark alleyway, she heard the sound of a trash bin being knocked over and angry voices.

“You fucking cunt! You really thought you could cheat me that easy. Don’t you fucking know who I am??”

Dany paused in her steps and in the darkness of the alleyway, she could make out a pair of men kicking a figure who was bent over on the ground.

_Just leave it, Dany. It’s none of your concern. Just walk away._

Yet despite the protests in her head, Dany found herself walking towards them.

“Hey! Leave that guy alone!” She yelled out, causing the two figures to stop abruptly and turn towards her.

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the men growled at her.

“This ain’t your business, miss. Just get the fuck out, alright?” The other man grumbled.

Dany’s hand automatically reached inside her purse, feeling for the pocket-sized can of mace she always carried with her.

“Leave him alone or I’m calling the cops.” She threatened, though she immediately regretted doing so as soon as the words left her lips.

The two men started moving away from the groaning man on the ground and headed closer to her.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck..._

But just as she started backing away, she suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of sirens.

A wave of relief came over her and she smirked, “Looks like someone beat me to it.”

Lights of red and blue glowed in the distance as the sound of the police cars grew louder.

“Fuck. Ramsay, let’s go, man.” The thinner man seethed as he tapped on the shoulder of his companion.

The other man, Ramsay she assumed, still kept his glower on her. Dany tightened her grip around the can of mace.

“You should listen to your friend.” She remarked, lifting her head slightly although she could feel her legs quaking beneath her.

The lights were brighter now and the sirens were deafening.

The man, still giving her a deathly scowl, spat on the ground in front of her and finally turned around. The two men took off, jogging towards the other end of the alleyway before turning into the street, out of her sight.

Once they had gone, Dany released the breath that she had been holding in. Just as she did, she heard the weak moans coming from the figure on the ground.

“Oh, shit.” Dany muttered as she rushed closer to him.

“Hey, hey. Are you alright?” Dany asked as she bent down and laid a hand on the beaten man’s shoulder.

As his bloodied face turned upwards toward her, mussed up curls falling over his eyes, Dany gasped as her eyes widened.

“Oh, gods... It’s you!”


	3. MEMENTO VIVERE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG! I'm so sorry it has taken me ages to finish this LOL
> 
> I've been sick with the flu for the past 2 weeks and with all the Christmas stuff, it was hard to find time to write.
> 
> Also. I added one more chap coz this one also got too long LOL 
> 
> But it will end next chap. I promise. Thank you for your patience! 
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR lol

> _This is my winter song._
> 
> _December never felt so long,_
> 
> _Cause you're not where you belong;_
> 
> _Inside my arms._
> 
> _This is my winter song to you._
> 
> _The storm is coming soon_
> 
> _It rolls in from the sea._
> 
> _My love a beacon in the night._
> 
> _My words will be your light_
> 
> _To carry you to me._
> 
> _Is love alive?_
> 
> _Is love alive?_
> 
> _Is love alive?_
> 
> _- **Winter Song** , Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson_
> 
> * * *

Jon Snow was cursed. 

Of that fact, he had absolutely no fucking doubt. 

As he lay on a heap of trash in a dark, cold alleyway getting the living shit kicked out of him, he sometimes wondered what he did to deserve all this.

* * *

Violence. It was only thing Jon has ever known all his life. Well, if he were honest with himself, it was the only thing he was good at…. Well, good at causing, at least. 

Growing up, his earliest memories were those of his parents screaming obscenities at each other before the verbal abuse turned physical with his mother getting the worst of it. His father was a fat, deadbeat drunken bastard. Whenever Jon's mother was out of the house working her two jobs, his father would fuck a different whore every day in the same bed his mother slept in. 

Whenever his parents would fight about it later that night, his father would often accuse his mother of fucking other men and that Jon was not even his real son. In turn, his mother would retaliate by calling his father a murderer, a cheater and a liar. 

In all truth, Jon would have thanked every god in the heavens if he wasn’t his father’s son. Better to be a bastard than to be related to that son of a bitch, that’s for sure. 

Anyhow, the marriage or whatever it was his parents had, was completely obliterated by the time he turned ten. His mother woke him up in the dead of night and with just two suitcases, they got into a cab and they left Storm's End City. 

His mother had saved enough money to buy two one-way tickets to the North. 

But they never made it to the airport. 

At the motel they stayed at, a fight had broken out between a couple in the room next to theirs. The fight had spilled out into the outside hallway. The woman was bruised and beaten, the man drunk and belligerent. His mother, having just escaped from a similar circumstance, decided to intervene. 

There was a tussle, an exchange of sharp words, and then… a scream. 

Jon was inside their room on the third floor of the motel while all of this transpired. 

It wasn’t until the police arrived that he was told his mother had fallen to her death after being accidentally pushed over the railing. 

When Jon was told that his father was coming for him, he knew that he had to get away. It didn’t take long for an opportunity to come up. As he sat inside a police car, a heated argument broke out between the officers and social workers. 

It was almost fifteen minutes later until someone noticed that the boy was no longer in the vehicle. 

It took a while for Jon to realize that his curse was also a blessing. It was how he survived. As people around him quarrelled, bickered, taunted and fought, Jon would use the distraction to steal money or food, stow away on a bus or a train, or find a quiet corner to sleep in. Occasionally needing to defend himself, Jon quickly learned how to throw a good punch and could easily outrun anyone who came after him. 

_North_ . He told himself. _Go North._ _Find Uncle Ned. That was_ _what Mama_ _said they were going to do._

It was over a week since his mother died when Jon finally arrived in Winterfell. By some miracle, everyone seemed to know his uncle, Ned Stark. It didn’t take long for him to find the Stark residence. 

His uncle and five cousins welcomed him with open arms. His uncle's wife, Catelyn, was more reserved and suspicious. 

Jon had thought that all his troubles were finally over after he had told his uncle what had happened. But, as with everything, peace never stayed long wherever he went. 

His uncle and aunt divorced. She left with the children and returned to her hometown at Riverrun. 

At school, Jon was constantly called into the principal's office, bloodied and bruised. Blamed for causing riots and fights that started among the students. He was moved from one school to another until, at the age of sixteen, his frustrated uncle sent him to the Night's Watch military school further north. 

Since it seemed that fighting was all he was good for, his uncle surmised that he could put that skill to use as a soldier. 

But even that was short-lived. 

After nearly dying on a botched mission at the eastern defense tower called Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, Jon was relieved of his duties and sent back to Winterfell. 

He worked a few odd jobs here and there, but nothing seemed to stick. 

After a year, Jon decided to head back south to get warm… and start a new life. 

Yet somehow, after all his years traipsing through Westeros, he found himself in a situation that he, unfortunately, was only all too familiar with. 

Here he was, on the ground, getting his ass handed to him. Again.

* * *

“Seven fucking hells.” Jon coughed as a hard boot slammed into his gut. 

“You fucking cunt! You really thought you could cheat me that easy. Don’t you fucking know who I am?” Ramsay Bolton barked as he gave Jon another forceful kick, this time across his face. His lackey, Theon Greyjoy, dug his own boot into Jon's back. 

Jon spat out blood onto the muddied ground and gave a weak laugh. 

_The Others take this fucking asshole._ _Not my fault he was too busy_ _yelling at his girlfriend than pay attention to his cards._

Poker wasn’t Jon's favourite card game and, if he was being honest with himself, he fucking sucked at it. But it was too easy to win it when the players were usually too drunk or too cantankerous to bluff effectively. Unfortunately, for Jon, Ramsay Bolton wasn’t as much of a dumbfuck as he expected he would be. 

But he needed the money... and well... this didn’t exactly pan out the way he had planned. 

He was clearly just having an off day… which turned into an off night. Normal people had off nights, right? 

Sure. If only he was a normal person. 

Jon's thoughts were interrupted as the sound of a women’s voice caused his assailants to pause. 

His ears were ringing. He couldn’t hear a damn thing being said. 

The next thing he knew, Ramsay and Theon had bolted and the unmistakable sound and lights of approaching police cars snapped him out of his daze. 

_Fuck._ _No._ _Not again._

The inside of a holding cell was not a place that Jon wanted to find himself at. Placing his palms on the cold, wet ground, he tried to force himself to stand. 

“Hey, hey. Are you alright?” He heard a voice ask. It sounded so familiar, where had he heard it before? 

Jon was just about to tell this woman to fuck off before she got herself into trouble, but as he turned his head up to face her, he heard her gasp and back away. 

“Oh gods… it’s you!”

* * *

 _(_ _Earlier that day_ _…_ _)_

“Jon, seriously. You know you’re my best friend, the best in the world, but if Gilly finds out you’ve spent the night on our couch, _again._ She’s gonna leave me, I know it.” 

Jon rolled his dark brown eyes as he bit into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that he made for himself. Two half-closed jars of peanut butter and raspberry jelly, as well as an open bag of rye bread, lay before him along with the knife he had used. Smears of peanut butter and jelly stained the countertop that Jon was casually leaning on. 

“Relax, Sam. She won’t even know I’m here.” He responded as he chewed, crumbs falling from his lips. 

Flabbergasted at his response, Sam gestured to the mess of items in front of Jon, “You think she won’t notice this or the pillows and sheets on the couch?” 

Jon licked a dollop of peanut butter off his thumb, “Just tell her you got up early and had yourself a midnight snack and you fell asleep watching The Real Housewives of The Reach. Easy as pigeon pie.” 

Sam gave a deep sigh, “Jon…” 

“Look. I just needed a place to crash for the night. Your house is one of the easiest to break into this side of King’s Landing. Besides, you still owe me for that time I covered for you when you shoplifted a bunch of Adderall from the pharmacy.” 

A colour of pink shaded Sam’s puffed up cheeks, “I had three exams that day, Jon! THREE!” 

Jon suppressed his laugh to keep himself from choking as he took another bite of his sandwich. 

When Jon had moved to King’s Landing three years ago, he was a nobody and knew no one. That all changed when he started frequenting the underground fight clubs that were held at various locations around the city. 

Jon knew he wasn’t that great of a fighter. He had lost more than his fair share of matches. But, again, his curse had ways of working in his favour. Soon, not only was he winning matches, but he was also making a shit ton of cash, which he quickly blew on booze and drugs. 

It was a wild and destructive lifestyle he led, as fast-paced and erratic as his penchant for causing mayhem wherever he went. 

But there was a price to all this fame and well, long story short, he fell in with the wrong crowd. 

One night, after a string of heavy losses in the fighting circuit, a few investors were none too pleased that their fighting cock was too drugged up and weak to fight. 

He was beaten within an inch of his life. 

That was the night he met Sam. 

Samwell Tarly was a sophomore medical student at King’s Landing University. He just so happened to pass by Jon's mangled body that was carelessly tossed into a dumpster behind KLU’s student center. 

Sam brought him to the small townhome he shared with his girlfriend, Gillian Craster, and basically saved his life and nursed him back to health. 

They became best friends ever since. 

Sam was also the only person he ever told about his curse. Because for some reason, it had no effect on Sam, whatsoever. The rotund med student’s jovial, sometimes overly optimistic nature never wavered despite the length of time he spent around Jon. 

Sam was initially skeptical when Jon disclosed his secret to him. So Jon decided to take him to a nearby fast-food restaurant. As soon as they walked in, a fight broke out between the customers arguing over chicken sandwiches and line cutting. Two men ended up in the hospital when all was said and done. The same thing happened in the next few fast food places they stopped at. By the end of that night, Sam was finally convinced. 

“Sam, I swear I’ll be out of your hair soon enough. Just need to get my bearings that’s all.” Jon reasoned as he finished off his sandwich, “Speaking of which... you wouldn’t mind lending me a fifty, would you?” 

Sam sighed, “Please tell me you haven’t been kicked out. _Again._ ” 

“I wasn’t kicked out.” Jon said, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he brushed the crumbs from his shirt, “Mrs. Stokeworth just... prefers not to see my face, that’s all.” 

Sam’s eyes narrowed, “You’re sleeping with her daughter again, aren’t you?” 

Jon gave him a defensive look as he pointed to himself, “Look, Lolly came to _me,_ alright? I mean, who could blame her? With that kind of a mother, you’d want to blow off some steam too.” 

His friend huffed as he started putting away the open jars of spread, “Jon. You realize you’re the reason why they’re at each other’s throats all the time, right? I don’t mean that they’re fighting about you, but their fighting _because_ of you.” 

Jon knew what Sam meant but he shrugged nonchalantly, “They don’t know that.” 

“What about your job?” Sam asked, switching the topic, “Shouldn't you be at the school today or something?” 

Jon walked towards the couch and lay on it, draping an arm across his eyes. 

“Seven fucking hells, Jon.” Sam whined from the kitchen, “You got fired, didn’t you?” 

“I was coaching _junior league_ _hockey_ , Sam. Not exactly the most prestigious of jobs to lose, if you ask me.” Jon stated, “I don’t even know why you bothered pulling strings for me to get that gig. Teams don’t do well around me, remember? Can’t be a team if the players want to bury the skate blades into each other’s throats instead of scoring a winning goal.” 

“Alright. That’s it. Get up.” 

Jon heard the heavy footfalls of Sam approaching him. 

“Hey!” Jon exclaimed as Sam took his red bomber jacket and scarf from the floor and threw it at Jon’s face roughly. 

“Gilly is going to be back from her sister’s soon and you _cannot_ be here when she does. So, get out. Now!” 

Jon exhaled with frustration as he pushed his jacket off of his face, “Gods. Don’t be such a fucking pussy, Tarly.” 

As he sat up and looked at his friend, Sam’s face was even more puffed up and reddening. 

_Fuck, is my curse getting to him now?_

“Sam?” 

“Get out, Jon. I mean it.” Sam repeated as he walked to the front door and opened it. 

Jon had heard that tone before, but knowing Sam as well as he did, he also knew that it would pass… or at least he hoped it would. He had never seen Sam look as livid as he did now. 

Giving a sigh of reluctance, Jon forced himself off the couch and proceeded to wrap his scarf around his neck and tugged his jacket on. 

As he marched out down the steps outside the townhouse, he turned to look at Sam as he stepped on to the front lawn that was covered in snow. 

“I’m sorry, Jon.” Sam said, his two chins wobbling, “But Gilly is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and you know what she’s like when you’re around. I just… I can’t lose her.” 

Jon shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded with understanding, “No, I get it. You do what you need to do. I respect that.” 

Sam ran a hand through his hair nervously. Then, with a look of pained regret, he pulled out his wallet and took out a few bills. 

Walking down the steps, Sam slapped the money into Jon’s hand, “I really need to stop enabling you like this. It’s been two years since you’ve been clean and I just… I just want you to not go back to how you were before I found you. So, will you, just this once, actually use my money for something other than gambling this time?” 

Jon waved his hand. This was getting too preachy for his taste. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Jon responded as he fished a rubber band from his jacket pocket and started to tie up his unruly dark curls into a man bun behind his head. 

Just as he walked to the curb, he noticed around ten large cardboard boxes with various Christmas decorations and rolls of fairy lights spilling out of them. A Christmas tree wrapped up in newspaper and rope lay on the snow next to them. 

“What’s all that shit?” Jon asked curiously, nodding towards them. 

“Oh, just some overstock donations of Christmas stuff from Gilly’s thrift store. Garbage people will be by to pick it up tomorrow morning.” Sam explained. 

“Right.” Jon responded, as his mind immediately started to run through what he had to do today. 

Well, first thing’s first. He needed money. He was already behind on his rent and he didn’t want to give Mrs. Stokeworth more reason to strangle him if ever he returned to his apartment building. But with Sam’s new bills in his pocket, it was time to make this money sing. 

“Jon?” 

At the sound of his name, Jon looked over his shoulder. His dark brown eyes meeting Sam’s wary ones. 

“Please... don’t get yourself into trouble.” His friend implored, his mouth in a tight line. 

Good old Sam. Ever the worrywart. Yet, he was never wrong either. 

Jon smirked at him with an air of confidence, “Do you really think I’m the kind of guy who goes looking for trouble?” 

But he didn’t stay to see Sam’s exasperated expression or turn when Sam called out his name again. 

Jon felt a vibration in his pants pocket. Pulling out his phone, his face turned into a grimace when he saw the name that flashed across his screen. 

_I don’t need to go looking for trouble, Sam. Trouble usually finds me._

* * *

Jon blinked a few times as his eyes started to focus. 

That hair, that coat… he’s seen them before… but where? 

_Gods… please don’t tell me I owe her money too… Fuck…_

He struggled to stand but only managed to lean against the fallen garbage bin. 

“Are you okay? Can you hear me? You’re bleeding. I’m going to call for help.” He heard a distorted voice say in his ear as he felt a hand tug on his arm. 

His hand reached up and grabbed the hem of a woollen coat. 

“No.” He rasped, almost desperately, “No hospitals... no police...” 

“Alright... alright. Well, I’m not leaving you here in the dump. Come on, you have to get up.” 

He could barely hear her. The sounds of the police sirens nearly drowned out her voice. 

“Come on.” The voice urged once more, “I can’t carry you on my own. Please...” 

Fighting off his better instincts and what was left of his pride, Jon allowed this familiar but not so familiar figure to bear his weight as he forced himself on to his feet. 

His face was throbbing and he felt sore all over as they quickly hobbled out of the alleyway and back into the dark side street. 

The sirens faded behind them as they walked down the block. 

But then, Jon tumbled forward. As his hands hit the pavement, he groaned in pain as he crawled towards a red fire hydrant. He leaned his back weakly against it, the taste of blood still in his mouth as he breathed out clouds of white mists. 

His eyes were closed from the pain as he breathed heavily. 

He heard the sound of shoes scraping across the ground and he opened his eyes finally to find himself staring up into deep blue-gray ones. The light from the flickering streetlamp above them giving him enough light to fully appraise his unsolicited rescuer. 

“You… I know you…” He murmured. 

She gave him a slightly wry smile, “How’s the view from down there?” 

Then it clicked. 

_Right... the nurse... from earlier._

Jon stifled a pained laugh, “Ah. Yes. I remember you. The nurse who sneaks in cancer sticks for her dying patients.” 

She nodded, though there was still a look of wariness in her eyes, “Fancy running into you here. Though I can’t say I’m keen on seeing our positions reversed and you being in a sorrier state than I ever was.” 

Jon attempted a smile but he was sure it was more of a grimace than a look of amusement, “Just... one of those days, you know.” 

The nurse with the platinum blonde hair laughed as she bent down so she was eye level with him, “Need a hand?” 

This time a genuine chuckle did escape from his bloody lips, “I suppose. Though I’m certain my pride’s taken a harder hit than yours did today.” 

“You’ll get over it.” The nurse responded with a soft smile. 

He gazed at her warily as he took several aching breaths, “You have been very kind. I appreciate all this. But I think you have done more than enough tonight. I really don’t want to--” 

“Okay. Listen. You have several cuts on your face and if they don’t get looked after, you could risk getting an infection. You’re bleeding from the mouth and from the way you’re holding your gut, you might have a broken rib or something worse. You don’t want to go to the hospital or the police... so I assume you’ve done something... illegal. Now, whatever it is, I don’t care and I don’t have to know. But I cannot, in all good conscience, let a man die on the streets on Christmas Eve.” 

“Why... why would you want to help me anyway?” Jon asked, white clouds emerging from his bloodied lips as he exhaled, “I could be a murderer... a rapist... or a... gang leader or something.” 

She sighed and shook her head, “I’m a nurse for dying patients. I once took care of a man who poisoned all the guests at his own daughter’s wedding. Granted, it was when I did my internship at the Black Cells Penitentiary. My point is, a person is a person no matter who or what they’ve done. It’s in my nature, I suppose, to help someone who needs it.” 

Then her eyes narrowed, “I also have a can of mace in my purse that I am not afraid to use _and_ I did a few years of kickboxing when I was in undergrad. So, you know, I could kick your ass if you tried anything... not like it’d take much to wear you down right now, anyway.” 

As she spoke, Jon awkwardly reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. 

“Fuck.” He muttered, looking at his now dead phone with a cracked screen. Then he looked up at her, “Alright, well, my phone is rightly fucked. Maybe I do need your help with calling a cab... or something?” 

The nurse rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms, “Did you really just ignore everything that I just said? It’s Christmas Eve. You’ll have better luck sprouting wings and flying than getting a cab or an Uber at this time of night. Besides, you don’t think you can explain away all this blood streaming out of you, do you?” 

“I’m fine.” Jon insisted but doubled over as a sharp pain shot through his side when he had been kicked. 

“You are such a stubborn ass.” Came her weary remark, “Look, the way I see it, you have two options. I can leave you right here, in the dirt and snow where you’ll probably die or go to prison if a cop car passes by. _Or_ you can come with me. My apartment is just a few blocks from here. If you have a concussion, and I’m pretty sure you do, you need to rest. I have a couch that you can crash on and you can even use my guest room shower, because right now, you smell like shit.” 

_Gods damn this woman!_

Jon chuckled weakly, in both bitter irony and genuine intrigue at her persistence at wanting to take a bleeding stranger to her home. 

“So, what’ll it be, Northerner?” She asked as she extended her hand down to him. 

Realizing that not only did she have a valid point but that arguing with her only worsened the throbbing pain in his face, he sighed and grabbed her hand. His legs trembling slightly as he stood up. 

“The accent. It’s the accent.” He muttered after finally recognizing why she had called him that. 

“Yup. My great uncle spent over half of his entire life up North. So... yeah, I can pick that up anywhere.” 

Jon stumbled forward and she caught his arm and placed it around her shoulder. 

“I got you.” She whispered in his ear, “Now. Enough talk. Let’s go.” 

_She is...an angel... a pretty, innocent nurse angel... Shit. I need to run._ _I need to run before I get her involved in..._

But his body was weak and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to make it anywhere without her. 

Despite his own voice screaming protests in his head, Jon leaned against her and allowed her to continue half-dragging him down the street. 

* * *

As they turned a corner, Jon felt like as though they had been walking a thousand miles. His entire body was on fire and every breath of air he took felt like a knife in his gut. 

“Stay with me, alright?” He heard her voice say, “Okay, watch your step, there’s five small stairs that I need you climb, okay?” 

Her voice was so calm and soothing and so... familiar. Like he had heard it before somewhere in his life, it was too real to say he had dreamed it. 

But maybe he was dreaming or maybe he was dead and she was the angel sent to take him to wherever it is angels take dead people. 

“Fuck!” 

He heard her curse as one hand fumbled inside her bag while the other held on to his jacket. 

“Fucking hells. Where did I put it?” 

_Never heard of an angel cussing so much before. Okay, maybe she isn’t an angel. But she’s definitely... someone I know from somewhere... but from where?_

_“_ Where the fuck is—oh, right. I’m such a fucking moron.” 

The rustling inside of her purse stopped and instead he heard the sound of a metal box being opened and closed. 

Loud caws broke through the air right above him.

Turning his head upwards, Jon opened his eyes to see four black crows perched on the branches of the dead tree that stood just beyond the porch. 

“You get a lot of those around here?” Jon mumbled. 

“Oh. The crows?” The nurse asked as she slid the key into the lock, “They’re everywhere these days. I swear they do nothing but follow me around.” 

“Yeah...” He responded with a small frown. 

It seemed they did nothing but follow him around too. 

_Fucking crows..._

A click and a creak of a door, and Jon found himself being brought into a narrow hallway. A coat rack with a few scarves and hats was on his right and he saw a large mirror hung on the wall to his left. Below the mirror, Jon noticed a large rectangular object wrapped in brown paper leaning against the wall. 

But his attention was quickly swayed as she pulled him further in. 

“Okay, I am going to sit you down over here.” 

Jon felt himself being lowered onto a soft, fabric couch. He groaned as he rested against the back of the couch. 

“You probably should take off your jacket and shoes. I’ll bring you a plastic bag to put them in. Don’t want you stinking up the place.” He heard her say as her footsteps receded. 

Jon sat up and gingerly removed his bomber jacket, wincing as he peeled his arms from the sleeves and then kicked off his shoes. 

Looking around, his eyes finally adjusting to the dim light inside the home he was brought into, Jon noted a boarded-up fireplace, a sparsely decorated living room, white walls that were bare and absent of any paintings or photographs. 

“I’m sorry it’s a little cold in here. The heat in this place isn’t the greatest. I hope you don’t mind.” He heard her call out. 

“Did you... erm... did you just move in?” Jon asked out loud in response. 

He could hear drawers and cupboards being opened and closed from the next room. 

“Sorry, I’ll be right there!” He hears her response. 

In a few moments, she finally emerged out from the other room carrying a number of different objects in her arms. She carefully unloaded the items on top of the coffee table before him. 

Picking up a bottle of hand sanitizer, she poured a dollop of it onto her palms before rubbing them together. Then, from a small carton, she pulled out a pair of disposable latex gloves which she expertly donned over her hands. 

“What were you saying?” She asked as she moved in front of him. He watched as she poured a bottle of water on to a small towel and started dabbing the cuts on his forehead. 

Jon sucked in air through his teeth as she carefully cleaned his wounds. 

“Just... um.... your place, which is great by the way. But, erm... did you just move in or are you just not much of a Christmas person?” Jon said, hoping that talking would take his mind off from the stinging pain on his face. 

“Probably the latter.” She answered with a short laugh, “I just... I’m not the best decorator anyway and putting up all this stuff for a week? It’s just too much of a hassle.” 

“Huh. Never picked you to be the Grinch kind. You seem like... the complete opposite.” He noted as she opened a bag and took out a bottle of antiseptic solution, a pack of cotton and a small roll of white gauze. 

“Never judge a book by its cover.” She responded simply as she poured the solution onto a piece of cotton, “Good news is, your wounds aren’t that deep, so no need for stitches. The bad news is, you probably do have a concussion. So, I would advise you to rest as soon as we are done here.” 

“Thanks again, erm... Nurse?” 

She laughed again, “I do have a name you know.” 

“And that is?” 

She smiled as she dabbed the solution on his cuts, “It’s Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen.” 

“That’s... quite a mouthful.” He commented. Being in such close proximity to her, Jon noticed that her eyes were of an interesting colour of blue-grey with a splash of hazel brown at the center of her irises. He could also detect the faint scent of her perfume. A hint of lavender, vanilla and something citrusy. 

“Friends call me Dany.” She stated as she bit off a piece of translucent tape and used it to hold the gauze in place. 

“Dany,” He repeated, “You said your last name was Targaryen?” 

“Yeah.” 

“No relation to Dr. Aemon Targaryen, I assume?” 

He noted her eyes light up at the mention of the former Head Maester’s name. 

“He’s my great uncle. The one I told you about.” She answered with a big smile, “How do you know him?” 

Jon sighed, wondering how much information he wanted to divulge, “I was in the Night’s Watch for some time. I saw him once at the infirmary, in my first year there. I burned my hand on one of the torches. He was the one who treated me. Didn’t see him much after that, I think that he retired soon after.” 

She nodded, he noticed a momentary look of sadness cross her face which she quickly shook off as she stood up from the couch. 

“Lift up your shirt. I need to see how bad it is under there.” She directed, clearing her throat. 

Jon was never one to shy away from that type of request before, particularly if it was being asked of him by a surprisingly attractive health care worker. Yet, he found himself hesitating until he heard the frustrated sigh of his caretaker break his thoughts. 

“Come on, tough guy, there’s nothing under there that I haven’t seen before. Trust me.” She stated as she folded her arms, “Unless you want me to take it off for you.” 

_Is she fucking crazy?_

Jon could feel the tingling of intrusive thoughts enter his mind which he forced back vehemently. 

“No, uh, that’s fine. I got it.” 

Groaning slightly, Jon lifted the bottom hem of his white shirt. Looking down, he cringed at the sight of the dark purplish and red marks across his abdomen. 

“Alright. That actually doesn’t look as bad as I expected. Hopefully, none of your ribs are broken. But since we can’t exactly take you in for a CT, we’ll just have to make do with what we’ve got for now.” Dany said as she took an ice pack from the table and set it against his stomach. 

Jon gritted his teeth at the pain once more. 

“Hold this, here.” Dany instructed as she reached for a larger roll of gauze bandages. Jon did as he was bid and watched as she carefully wound the dressing around the ice pack to hold it in place. 

“So, what about you, Northerner? Do you have a name?” She asked as she unrolled the gauze around him. 

“It’s Jon... Jon Snow.” He answered, lifting his eyes to the ceiling, wondering if it was the pain or her scent that was taking his breath away. 

She smirked as she secured the end of the bandages, “Jon Snow? You sure that’s your real name?” 

“Well, my last name has changed over the years. I once had my father’s and then my mother’s but now... I’m just Jon. Thought it worked well with Snow.” He responded as she pulled back and sat next to him. 

“I suppose if you wanted to keep a low profile, Jon Snow is the best kind of name to adopt.” She remarked as she got up and took off her gloves. 

She disappeared back into the other room. When she returned, she had a glass of water in her hand which she gave to him. 

“Thank you.” He said as he took a gulp, not realizing how parched he was. 

“Well, it looks like you’re going to be just fine, Jon Snow.” She said with a smirk, “Now, take two of these. It’ll knock you right out and help you sleep.” 

She opened up her palm revealing two small blue pills. 

Jon’s eyes widened as he shook his head, moving away from her, “I don’t think I need those. I can sleep just fine, trust me.” 

He saw a deep frown form on her brows, “There’s really no need to act like a stubborn mule. You’re not here to impress anybody. I know you’re in pain. These will help.” 

“Oh, I know. Believe me. I know only too well how much those things can help.” Jon said before giving her a knowing look. 

“Oh... Oh gods. I’m-I’m so sorry.” Dany quickly stated as she drew back her hand. 

Jon waved his hand, “It’s fine. I’m pretty sure you’ve seen your fair share of addicts. I’ve been clean for over two years now but, well, it only takes one bad day, am I right?” 

She nodded and dropped the pills into the medicine bag, “I do have some Tylenol if you want it.” 

He gave her a weak smile, “I’ll be fine.” 

“I should have asked this earlier... but is there anyone I can call for you? Who might be looking for you?” She asked with a sympathetic gaze as she helped him lie back on the couch. 

Jon gave her an ironic shake of his head as he eased himself on to the pillows, “Oh, there’s a few out there looking for me. None of whom would give a damn about me unless they got what they’re owed.” 

Dany sighed as she bent down beside him, “I meant, do you have any family? Friends? A wife... or girlfriend, perhaps?” 

Jon gave a dry chuckle, “I’m... between girlfriends as of the moment.” 

“Are you between jobs as well?” There was a teasing smile on her lips as he glanced warily at her. 

“I mean, why else would you be owing anyone anything?” She added as she gazed back at him. 

Jon turned his head and closed his eyes, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?” 

“I’m not here to judge.” He heard her say, “It’s not as if I lead the most innocent of lives here.” 

To this, he laughed out loud, “Now that, I highly doubt.” 

When she didn’t respond to this, he opened his eyes, feeling the shift in the air between them. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked with concern. 

She shook her head and gave him a forced smile, “It’s - It’s nothing.” 

He knew that look well, he perfected hiding it a long time ago. The look of someone with something to hide. 

“Hey...” He said as he reached to touch her shoulder and repeated, “What’s wrong?” 

A tinge of red crossed her cheeks as she stood up and started clearing the coffee table. 

“I’ll be right back.” She murmured as she walked away with her arms full of the items she had gathered. 

Curiosity got the better of him as he gathered what strength he had left, grimacing as he sat up from the couch and followed after her. 

“W-wait...” He called out as he found himself wandering weakly into a small but pristine kitchen. As with the living area, the kitchen was just as sparsely decorated save for a hanging plant by the window, some curtains around the windows and a calendar that had the image of Good Alysanne’s Centre for Hospice Care on the upper page. 

His eyes moved to find Daenerys standing in front of her sink, her head bowed low as she rested her palms on the counter. 

She lifted her head slightly when she heard him shuffle into the room, leaning against the closest counter. 

“You really should be resting.” Dany whispered as she turned her head slightly to look at him over her shoulder. 

“You can’t exactly expect me to just lie there when something’s gotten you all upset.” He answered, holding the ice pack that was strapped against his aching ribs. 

“It’s really nothing.” She said as she turned her head. 

Jon moved closer to her, his hand bracing his weight as it slid across the counter. 

“You know, I have to say, you have one of the worst poker faces that I have ever seen in my life.” He said, hoping the levity would break the silent tension between them. 

She slowly turned to face him but the expression remained unchanged on her face. 

“This is so unlike me.” She stated, her voice was so soft, he wasn’t even sure she had said anything. 

“What do you mean?” 

She gestured towards him, “You. This. I don’t _do_ this. I don’t get involved in shit that isn’t my business. I don’t bring random people to my house when they’re bleeding on the street. I call an ambulance and I leave them be and yet... here you are.” 

Jon gave her a lopsided smile, “So... why am I here?” 

Dany crossed her arms and shook her head, “I don’t know. I just... I couldn’t just leave you out there...” 

“You could have.” Jon reasoned as he took another step towards her, “But you didn’t.” 

“It’s just been such... an odd day.” She said as she ran her fingers through her hair. 

When he had seen her earlier that day, lying there on the snowy ground, cursing under her breath, her hair was in a ponytail and there was an intricate braid across the top of her head. But he decided, he preferred her hair the way it was now. Hung loose over her shoulders, shorter strands falling over her light blue-grey eyes. 

“You’re telling me.” Jon said as he settled on one of the high stools that peeked out from underneath the counter. 

Looking at her closely, he could tell that a million things were running through her mind as she worried at her bottom lip and lightly paced her kitchen floor. 

“I don’t do Christmas... or New Year’s or Easter or any of these fucking holidays. I normally would be at work right now rather than be here doing _this.”_ She began as she talked with her hands. 

Jon found this highly amusing as he leaned his elbow on the counter watching her, “If by _this_ , you mean saving my life, I am immensely grateful for it. But I’m sure a superhero nurse like you saves lives every day.” 

She paused in her pacing and gave him a look that Jon thought was a mix of panic and anxiety. 

“You don’t understand.” She started, turning away as she gazed out her kitchen window. 

Jon moved off the stool and slowly came to her side, wanting to see where her own eyes had wandered. 

Across a small yard, Jon found himself looking into her next-door neighbour’s apartment. Hidden behind frosted windows and pale curtains, Jon could see the silhouettes of two children and their parents dancing in front of their tall Christmas tree as upbeat Christmas tunes played in the background. 

“You don’t seem like the kind of person who spends these kinds of things alone.” He noted as he turned his eyes towards her. 

There was a sad smile on the corner of her lip, “I mean, aside from one old, dying man... there really isn’t anyone....” 

It seemed that she had more to say before she stepped away from the counter. 

“Dany...” Jon called after her. 

At the mention of her name, she paused and looked back at him. There was a watery sheen to her eyes and he could detect a slight shake in her voice as she spoke to him, “You really should lie down now, you need your rest. Then, I think it’s best that you go.” 

“Go?” Jon asked, a confused frown on his face as he watched her grab a cordless phone from its stand before she walked back to him and set the phone on the counter before him. 

“Here. If there’s no one you can go to, perhaps you can call yourself a cab.” She stated, leaving the phone where she had set it. The lightness and joviality in her eyes from when he first spoke to her was no longer there. There was also an added weight to her voice and it was as if there was a completely different person standing in front of him now. 

“Was it something I said? If it is then I’m--” 

“It’s not you, Jon.” She stated with a shake of her head as she walked away from him, she stopped briefly at the door to give him one last look, “It’s me.” 

Puzzled and mystified, Jon was left alone in the kitchen pondering her last words. 

It wasn’t as if this was the first time a girl brought him home after one meeting and it was also not the first time he was told to leave before anything significant could occur. Yet... for some reason, this girl was different. 

He couldn’t quite figure it out. She was beautiful, there was no denying that. But there was something else simmering there, underneath that burning feeling of familiarity. Were she someone else... anyone else, he would have no problems in getting right the fuck out of there. 

But as he stared at the phone on the counter, he knew that he couldn’t leave. Not as long as that restless feeling in his gut stayed. If there was one thing Jon knew well in his many years of running, it was that his gut was always right, and right now, it was telling him to stay right there. 

Picking up the phone, he started to dial a well-memorized number. 

After a few rings, a groggy voice answered. 

“Hello?” 

“Sam... it’s me.” 

“Fucking hells...Jon? Please don’t tell me you’re in jail.” 

Jon sighed, “No.” 

“Oh gods, someone’s kidnapped you, haven’t they?” 

“No...” 

“You’re tied up in a basement! Probably bleeding, beaten up...” 

Jon winced as he held the ice pack against his ribs. 

“Well...” 

“Oh gods...” 

“Sam, would you relax? I’m fine.” Jon hissed into the phone. 

“You’re lying!” Over the phone, as Sam whispered angrily at him, Jon could hear the sound of rustling in the background. 

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m not lying, Sam.” 

He could already picture his friend stumbling half-asleep outside his room, panicking over nothing. 

“I hope you realize that the last time I bailed you out, I had to borrow money from Dad and you _know_ how nosey he gets with where--” 

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! Will you shut up for one damn second and let me talk?” Jon finally snapped as he turned around to face the window, hoping his voice had not carried off towards the other end of the apartment. 

The silence on the other end finally came and Jon breathed out a sigh. 

Looking up, he could faintly make out the blurred flashing lights of the Christmas tree through the windows of the next house. 

More black crows gathered atop the roof, looking around with their inquisitive black eyes as they snapped their beaks and cawed loudly. 

“Sorry for yelling... but I do need a huge favour.” Jon said in a calmer tone. “You still got those boxes of Christmas junk over at your place? The one from Gilly’s store?” 

“Yeah...?” A confused and hesitant voice responded. 

Jon smirked as he watched small fluffs of snow begin to fall once more outside the window. 

“Perfect.” 


	4. MEMENTO MORI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies to my Secret Santa giftee for the month-long delay of this fic. 
> 
> But here it is!! Finally! The conclusion to this crazy, wild story!
> 
> Thank you again to cmyatt01 for the moodboards and for being my beta as well as for continuously encouraging me in this endeavour! Much love, mama!
> 
> And now, back to the writing of my other fics, to the delight of my dear friends who never fail to remind me how long its been since I last updated the rest of my work. LOL. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3 Christmas is still alive in January, hahaha!
> 
> ~chin

> _There is a time for everything,_
> 
> _and a season for every activity under the heavens:_
> 
> _a time to be born and a time to die,_
> 
> _a time to plant and a time to uproot,_
> 
> _a time to kill and a time to heal,_
> 
> _a time to tear down and a time to build,_
> 
> _a time to weep and a time to laugh,_
> 
> _a time to mourn and a time to dance,_
> 
> _a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,_
> 
> _a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,_
> 
> _a time to search and a time to give up,_
> 
> _a time to keep and a time to throw away,_
> 
> _a time to tear and a time to mend,_
> 
> _a time to be silent and a time to speak,_
> 
> _a time to love and a time to hate,_
> 
> _a time for war and a time for peace._
> 
> \- _**Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8**_

* * *

_What in all seven fucking hells was I thinking?_

Dany slammed the door shut to her room and leaned back against it, closing her eyes and burying her face in her hands.

She must have seemed to him like a complete madwoman.

Gentle, caring and insistent one moment and then being a complete ass the next.

_I practically kicked him out the minute after I invited him in. Gods! Dany! What the fuck were YOU thinking?_

But there was only so much self-lecturing and cursing she could do to herself.

The fact remained that there was a complete stranger in her home. A hot stranger, no doubt, with his dark black curls and those chocolate-brown eyes and…

_Okay, stop it, Dany! You got to fucking focus!_

She sighed. She knew she couldn’t keep him here. If he stayed any longer...

Dany didn’t even want to think about that. But there was no denying it.

Jon Snow was in far more danger in her house than anywhere else.

But she couldn’t tell him that, could she? The poor boy was already left flabbergasted by her sudden personality change when he scoffed at her notion that her life was not as innocent as he probably thinks it is… or when he mentioned that she was a superhero nurse or something…

_Fuck…_

Dany banged her head back against the door.

Well, it didn’t matter. Better that he thinks her a lunatic and makes every attempt to leave like he initially intended to when she had gotten him out of that alleyway. At least she was comforted by the fact that she had bandaged him up as well as she could and that he was in a place that was clean, safe and quiet.

At least, safe enough until he walks out of her life forever.

Dany groaned. She felt torn.

On the one hand, she knew that she had to let him go or else the entire point of saving his life would have been for nothing.

On the other hand…

_On the other hand… there’s a reason why I couldn’t seem to stop myself from dragging his beaten ass back to my place._

This wasn’t the first time she’s brought a guy she barely knew back to her place and then kicked him out when she got what she wanted. But Jon Snow… Jon Snow wasn’t one of her one-night stands. At least, as far as she was concerned.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him from somewhere. When he spoke to her as she bandaged his wounds, his voice… it sounded so comforting and so secure, the very sound of it made her feel like she was coming home. But what did that mean? Coming home to what?

Dany shook her head as she walked towards her bathroom. Turning on the faucet, she splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would dispel the crazy notions running through her mind.

Wiping her face with a small towel, Dany caught a glimpse of herself on the stained mirror above the sink. Tired and anxious blue-grey eyes peered back at her. Her light blonde hair looked slightly frazzled as Dany ran her fingers through it.

She knew she looked like a complete hot mess.

She needed sleep. Looking at the small digital clock atop a small shelf next to the mirror, she noticed it was only 10:42 pm.

_It’s not even midnight._

Dany sighed as she set the towel down next to the sink. Hoping that Jon Snow would be gone by the time she would wake up, Dany figured it was about time to ready herself for bed.

After she had finished taking a hot shower, brushed her teeth, and completed her other nightly rituals, she pulled on a white nightie and walked barefoot towards her bed.

The sheets were cool as she pulled back her thick comforter and slid underneath it. Dany curled into a tight fetal position and pressed her face into the soft pillow. Her fingers gathered up the edges of the blanket and pulled it over her.

In a few moments, her breathing slowed and deepened as she finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Dany opened her eyes.

She found herself standing in the middle of a long hallway.

She knew this place.

Looking around, she realized that she was at Good Alysanne’s. She could hear the sound of Christmas music playing in the distance.

Nurses and orderlies passed her by, oblivious to her presence.

_Am I a ghost?_

Dany then found herself walking down the corridor. As she glanced down, she noticed that she was dressed in a dazzling ivory robe that just slightly covered her bare feet. Behind her were two large snow-white wings closed in together, its feathered ends dragging along the vinyl floor but made no sound.

_What... what am I? What’s going on?_

Her feet stepped forward, seemingly of their own accord, leading her down a familiar pathway. Finally, she stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

The room was dimly lit by a single, orange nightlight above the bed. There was a sound of rhythmic beeping coming from the machines that were attached to a sleeping figure via various tubes and cords.

Dany knew this room. She was in here earlier.

_Why am I here?_

She took a few steps forward and gazed down at the elderly man on the bed who was breathing raggedly in his sleep.

_Uncle Aemon?_

Dany wanted to cry but the tears did not come.

Suddenly, the old man stirred and his wrinkled eyes slowly opened. As he turned his head to look up at her, there was a curious smile that came to his cracked lips.

“I... I knew... you would come for me.”

When Dany opened her mouth, she wanted to call out his name but instead, words in a foreign accent emerged from her lips.

“Are you in pain?”

He shook his head, “N-no. I haven’t felt this strong since I left the North.”

“Good. You have lived a long and good life, Aemon. Are you prepared for what comes next?”

Aemon swallowed and then nodded slowly, “Yes.”

“Then close your eyes. It will all be over soon.”

But he stubbornly lifted his head up from the bed, “My brother.... my brother, Egg. Is he... is he...?”

There was a smile that tugged on the corner of her lips, “He eagerly awaits your coming. Let us not prolong his anticipation by lingering here.”

“Aye.” Aemon answered, a look of peace settling on his face, “Oh. One last thing?”

He reached his hand out to her, “My niece... my great-niece, Daenerys. She is the one thing I regret leaving. Will she... will she be...?”

Taking a hold of his hand in hers, she brushed her thumb over his fingers.

“Worry not for her. She has found what she has long sought after, and she will soon be complete.”

A relieved smile crossed his face and he nodded, “I wish I could have seen her one last time... if only to say goodbye.”

_I’m here, Uncle Aemon! I’m here..._

“She is here.”

A bright light lit up in the old man’s eyes. Dany bent forward and sat on the edge of his bed, pulling him into an embrace.

“Oh!”

But the tears that she wanted to shed were kept bottled up inside and the words that she wanted to scream died silently on her tongue. It was as if the body that she inhabited was not hers, but someone else’s.

There were words that escaped her lips that she did not understand. Words of an ancient and ethereal language, long dead to man, that was whispered into the old man’s ear.

Dany closed her eyes as she held on to Aemon. She didn’t want to let him go. She didn’t want him to leave.

But when her eyes opened once more, she found herself clutching a pale blue coloured spirit.

Standing from the bed, her hands coaxed the old man’s soul from the now lifeless shell that it had left behind.

A steady, loud beep from the heart monitor sang loudly into the room.

Aemon’s spirit glided from the bed and walked towards the door. Dany followed after him and pointed the way.

There was a silent gaze of joy from the old man’s ghostly form as he walked out into the hallway.

Standing at the very end of the corridor, just before the main doors leading to the lobby, was the spirit of a younger man, dressed in an army uniform.

_Egg..._

Dany watched as Aemon’s soul reached his brother’s and she felt her heart tighten as they embraced.

When Aemon turned back to look at her, no longer was he an elderly man, wrinkled and bent. Instead, a younger semblance of his soul grinned at her and waved his hand.

A part of wanted to burst into tears. A bittersweet swell of emotion rose up within her and yet, the body she inhabited remained still and calm. Underneath the barrage of thoughts and feelings rushing through Dany’s mind, she felt an eerie familiarity to this process, as if she had seen this kind of thing happen a million times before.

The two celestial spirits faded through the walls of the hospice.

Dany could hear the sounds of shouting and the pattering of running feet.

Looking behind her, several nurses rushed into the room that she had just walked out of, yelling loudly to each other.

She felt her great white wings unfold behind her and as Dany walked forward once more, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass window pane.

Her eyes wandered over her ivory robe, her outstretched wings and the paleness of her skin. Her long tresses were silver-gold in colour and cascaded down her back, shimmering in the fluorescent light of the hallway.

Then she met her own eyes. They were so pale... almost a blush of lilac.

She knew her face, yet at the same time, she didn’t.

_What is happening to me? Who is this? What’s going on?_

Before Dany could ask any more questions, she felt her body lift from the ground, her feet suspended a little ways above the ground.

Dany closed her eyes and though she had no control over her own lips, she screamed.

* * *

Her breaths came in deep, quick gasps. There was sweat dripping from the side of her temple.

She found herself sitting up in bed, her hands balled up into her sheets.

She blinked her eyes a few times. She brought a hand to her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

_A nightmare. That’s all it was. A vivid, awful nightmare._

Her heart jumped once more when her phone started to ring as it vibrated on the nightstand beside her.

Picking up the phone, Dany saw the words “GOOD ALYSANNE” flashing on the screen.

In that moment, she knew... it wasn’t just a dream.

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she answered the call.

“H-Hello?”

“Hi, Daenerys. It’s Dr. Tarth calling from Good Alysanne’s. I am so sorry to wake you at this hour or if I’ve interrupted your Christmas festivities but I have some difficult news for you.”

Dany closed her eyes as her tears fell, “Thank you for calling Dr. Tarth.”

“Daenerys... your great uncle, Aemon--”

She didn’t need to hear it. She didn’t want to hear it. But there was no escaping it.

“It’s alright... I know.”

She heard the doctor sigh on the other end, “We’ve spoken about this moment a few times in the past. But, with that said, I am very sorry for your loss. I understand if you need some time to process all this.”

The tears were now dripping from her jaw unto her blankets, “Yes, thank you. I’ll be by in the morning.”

Dany hung up before she could hear Dr. Tarth’s reply. The phone slipped out of her hands and onto the bed.

Pushing back the covers, Dany moved her feet to the floor as she bent her head and took several deep breaths.

_I can do this... I can do this..._

She swallowed hard as she forced herself to stand. Her legs slightly shook as she walked towards her door in a slight daze. But just as her hand reached the door handle, she stopped and fell to her knees.

Dany had held back the full throttle of tears that were threatening to escape but as her throat tightened and her arms trembled, the dam finally broke.

With a hand to her mouth and the other fist pounding on the ground, Dany broke apart.

Her chest heaved with sobs and her throat ached from the strangled cries that she tried to keep stifled.

_No... not again... not again..._

It seemed no matter what she did, people always seemed to leave. As much as she tried to run from it, to hide from it, her cursed followed her as closely as her own shadow.

The immense weight of anguish and sorrow crashed down upon her once more.

Once again, she was all alone in the world.

Just then, a knock at the door startled her back into reality.

“Um... Dany?” She heard a muffled voice say from the other side, “You okay?”

She quickly brushed her hand across her face, “I’m fine.”

Though the crack in her voice was less than convincing as she rested her head on the door.

“You don’t sound like it.” He noted. There was a soft scrape against the door that sounded as if he was leaning against it.

_Why the fuck is he still here?_

“I really… I think I need to be alone right now.” Dany stated though she knew he could hear the gasps between her words.

Shutting her eyes, Dany wondered why she was lying to him… and to herself. But she knew no other way and sooner or later, she would convince herself that this is the better way. It’s what she always did whenever she found herself alone. It wasn’t hard to convince herself that she deserved it, in a way, maybe she did.

She heard him sigh, “I usually say that when I need to escape from something.”

“I’m not running away from anything,” Dany responded with a glare on her face.

“Maybe not,” He continued, “But I know a bluff when I see it, or hear it, in this case.”

She felt her blood start to boil as she stood on her feet, “What do you care, anyway? I don’t know you and you certainly don’t know me! Why are you still here? I thought I told you to leave!”

“What happens if I don’t?”

Dany wanted to strangle him. She felt infuriated, overwhelmed... and yet, a part of her didn’t really want him to leave.

She slammed her fist on the door.

“Do you really care so little about your life?” She shouted bitterly.

“You act as if you’re going to kill me or that the ground is going to swallow me up whole if I stay.” He answered back.

_This fucking idiot..._

“I should have done what I intended to do when I found you. I should have called the police and let them take you!” Dany threatened as she tightened her fists.

“Do it, then. If that’s what you really want.”

She gritted her teeth. He was right. She could very well go ahead and make true on her threats... but...

“You really know nothing about anything, do you, Jon Snow?” She murmured as she turned and rested her back against the door, pulling up her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

She heard another shuffle on the other side of the door, and judging by the volume of his voice, she knew that he was mirroring her exact position.

“I could if you tell me.” Came his response.

Could she tell him? Why should she? He was nobody. A complete stranger.

But Dany was tired of lying, of pushing people away, and he had caught her in her most vulnerable state. She didn’t have the strength or patience to fight his stubbornness, so she gave up on her own.

Dany felt her lower lip quiver as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. Looking up, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Aemon is dead.”

The second the words left her lips, the harder it hit her that this was not a dream that she could wake up from and forget. She felt her chest tighten as she stifled her sobs.

“I’m sorry... I’m so... sorry.”

She didn’t want to hear it. She had no need for his pity. Yet there was such a relief in finally speaking it and the gentle timbre of his voice was more calming than she wanted it to be.

“It’s... it’s all my fault.” The words came tumbling out before she could stop herself, “I should have been there, I should have been there with him.”

_But I was... wasn’t I? Did I kill him? Did I kill you, Uncle Aemon?_

“This isn’t your fault.” He insisted.

“It _is_ my fault!” She stated vehemently, “ _This_ is what happens to anyone who’s ever come too close, who means too much... who stays too long with me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Dany leaned against the door. How could she make him understand?

“You’re going to think I’m insane.”

“Try me.”

Dany shut her eyes, “People die, Jon. I don’t know how or why but being around me makes people die. Why do you think I chose to work at a hospice? It’s the only place where death is expected and sometimes even welcomed. Everyone I’ve ever loved is dead and gone, because of me.”

She took another deep breath. It was now or never.

“It’s like I’m... I’m...”

“Cursed?”

She opened her eyes and blinked, “What?”

“It’s like you’re cursed,” Jon repeated and yet she heard no condemnation or derision in his voice. The way he said it made it seem as if he knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I never thought I’d be saying this again. I thought talking about it once was more than enough. But I do know what it’s like.” She heard him say.

A frown deepened on her brow, “This isn’t a joke.”

“I never said it was.” He replied sharply.

_Gods… he’s serious?_

“I’m not sure what else you would call it. What does it mean whenever you walk into a room and people start losing their shit and feel the need to rip each other apart? Or when a group of lads who are just having a good time, drinking and laughing, then turn to beat the living daylights out of each once you’re there? Or when you’re out on a reconnaissance mission but then your cover gets blown because all of a sudden a fight breaks out between your commander and your brothers in arms for absolutely no fucking reason at all?”

Dany moved her head to the side, so she was leaning closer to the edge of the door.

“Is that what happened to you in the Night’s Watch?”

“Yeah…” He continued, “At least in death, there’s peace. But there’s no peace wherever I go. I’ve spent years wandering this damn country and the only thing I seem to leave behind is a trail of messed up lives and broken hearts. Seems like all I do is cause chaos, regardless of any intention on my part to do so. It just happens. I don’t know what it means. Call it a curse, call it bad luck, call it the gods deciding to fuck up my life for shits and giggles. But it’s taken away everyone I’ve ever loved too.”

Dany placed her palm flat on the door. Her heart was filled with compassion, with sorrow and regret not just for herself but for the stranger on the other side of the door. For the first time in her life, she no longer felt afraid or even… alone.

Standing up, her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the doorknob and turned it.

She heard him shuffle on the other side. As her door slowly creaked open, she looked up to find him standing in front of her in his dark red t-shirt and black jeans.

Her face was stained with her tears and her light blonde hair tousled around her shoulders.

He gazed at her with a sombre look but when his brown eyes met her own, she felt as if she was staring into her own soul. A kindred spirit, that was as dark and as broken as hers.

It seemed he had seen it as well as he took a step towards her.

Without a word, Dany allowed her guard to fall as she leaned her head on his chest. He didn’t seem to mind as she sobbed quietly, wrapping his arms gently around her and pulling her close.

Her arms were folded and pressed between his chest and hers, her hands unconsciously clutching on to the soft fabric of his shirt.

Jon remained silent as she finally let her tears run its course.

“I’m sorry for ruining your shirt.” She sniffed softly.

He gave a weak chuckle, “It’s alright. I have others.”

She knew she had overstepped her boundaries and put herself in a rather awkward position. Yet, a part of her kept her pressed against him. Being held by him seemed to be different from any other physical encounter she had shared with anyone else.

How could this one simple act be more intimate than anything else she had ever experienced before?

“Listen,” She heard him whisper, “I know this might be either the absolute worst timing ever or in completely bad taste but… I have a surprise for you.”

* * *

He asked her to close her eyes and though she felt like a complete idiot doing it, she followed his instructions anyway.

Leading her by the hand, Jon brought her towards her living room. It was only a few steps, but Dany felt her heart hammering in her chest.

_What is he up to?_

Finally, he released her hand, “Keep them closed.”

“Uh… alright.”

“Are you afraid I’m going to feed you to a dragon or something.” She heard him say with a teasing laugh, “Don’t you trust me?”

“Trust you? I barely know you.” She answered though she kept her eyes closed.

She heard the sound of something brushing against the floor and then a click.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

Dany did as she was told and at first, the brightness of lights caused her to step back and blink a few times.

“What is… oh!”

With a hand over her mouth in amazement, she took in the sight before her.

Her once drab and plain living area was brightly lit with fairy lights running along her walls. It wound around several wreaths that were decorated with red berries and silver and gold garlands. Her boarded up fireplace was now lit with several logs of wood that provided a welcoming warmth to the room. Hanging on the mantelpiece were several colorful stockings and atop it were various Christmas themed candles and figurines.

But it was the tall Christmas tree in the center of the room that drew her attention the most.

Standing a few meters from the fireplace was an ostentatiously decorated tree. Gold tinsel, red and silver metallic balls and various other Christmas ornaments hung from the sprigs and branches of the tree. It gave off a faint pine scent and atop it was a bright gold star that twinkled and gleamed.

“Gods…Jon…” Dany breathed as she looked around her transformed living room, “Where—where… how?”

She was at a loss for words as her heart soared and tears stung her eyes. Except this time, what she felt was an overwhelming feeling of joy rather than sorrow.

“I had a little help. All this stuff was gonna get tossed out anyway and I thought that it could serve a better purpose here. Besides, you could use a little holiday cheer after everything you’ve done for me.” Jon answered, his arms crossed across his chest as he watched her reaction with a smile on his face.

“It’s beautiful,” Dany said, giving him a teary smile.

She watched as Jon walked across the room towards the tree and from behind it, he pulled the brown paper-covered package that was initially leaning against the wall by the door.

“I assumed this is a painting and… I think it would fit perfectly above the fireplace. But I didn’t want to open it without consulting you first since it is yours. So, I leave you to do the honours.” He said as he pulled the package towards him.

Dany sat on her couch as Jon set the covered frame before her.

She ran her hands over the corners, feeling the brown paper crinkle under her fingers, “Uncle Aemon gave this to me as a Christmas present. It’s a drawing by his brother, Aegon. But he asked me not to open till Christmas day.”

Jon checked his watch and smirked, “Just turned three am on the twenty-fifth. I think you’re good to go.”

She looked up and smiled at him. Then turning her attention back to the package, she began to tear at its edges, ripping the brown paper off.

Dany made quick work of removing the packaging, unveiling the artwork that she had been given.

As she ripped off the last strip of paper, Jon grunted as he lifted the heavy object over the screws, so it hung secured against the wall.

In one quick motion, the wooden frame was set and was perfectly situated in the center, right above the mantelpiece.

Both Jon and Dany stood side by side as they stared up at the drawing.

Illuminated by the glow of the fireplace below as well as the white sheen of the fairy lights, the image before them captivated their gazes.

Sketched in dark charcoal were two figures standing close together at the forefront. Both of them had large wings outstretched behind them, the taller figure had black wings streaked with red while the other had ivory white ones. Dotted all around these two “angels” were small black sketches of birds that seemed to be flying around the pair. 

“Strange…” Jon whispered as he peered more closely at the drawing.

“What is?” Dany asked, but it was as if she knew what he was about to say.

“This drawing. I feel like… I’ve seen it before.” Jon stated, his brows furrowing as he stepped closer.

“Yeah…” Dany added, her eyes taking in every detail that she could make out. Every shade, every line, every mark of charcoal.

Not only did she feel like she had seen it before, which was already impossible enough, but she felt like it was almost a drawing of a forgotten memory she had of herself. But how could that be?

In her mind, she recalled something her Uncle Aemon had told her when she was with him.

_“When you see Egg’s drawing, you’ll understand.”_

_What did he mean by that? What am I suppose to understand?_

The only thing she remembered was that they were speaking of death but looking upon the drawing before her, she couldn’t begin to piece together how death had anything to do with this random sketch of angels.

“There’s something carved on the bottom,” Jon mentioned as he squinted his eyes.

Dany followed his gaze and right at the bottom edge of the drawing, she noticed something carved into the wood. It seemed to be a passage written in a foreign language. She noted the tight cursive letters and small notches of dashes and lines above certain words.

She moved closer to the frame and reached up to run her fingers over the etched words. She had seen these words before… but she couldn’t remember when or where.

“It’s in Ancient Valyrian.” She stated as she looked sideways at Jon, “My Uncle Aemon had a few books written about it. He taught me some words and phrases.”

Dany returned her attention to the frame, her eyes focusing intently on the words as she sounded them out.

“ _Rūnas aōha morghon syt valar morghūlis_.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she heard the sudden flutter of wings and a loud racket of caws echoed from outside her windows. There was a howl of wind that rattled the glass windows and a shimmer of blowing snow danced outside her apartment.

Dany gasped as the power went out, enveloping them both in darkness save for the red-orange glow of the fireplace. Confusion and apprehension churned within her as she looked back at Jon.

“Do you know what it means?” He questioned. His voice barely above a whisper. His head was bowed and his face covered in shadow. Dany wondered why he mentioned nothing about the lights going out or the strange raucous happening around them.

Dany slowly looked back at the drawing. As she did, her eyes widened with shock.

For a moment, it seemed as if the figures in the picture were moving. The feathers on the wings of each angel rippled and shook like a strong wind was moving over them. The charcoal birds flapped their wings and turned in a circle.

Shaking her head, Dany blinked rapidly, and the illusion quickly disappeared.

“What does it mean, Dany?” Jon asked again, his voice more insistent and hoarser.

Stammering, Dany closed her eyes as she tried to remember the translation.

“I-it, uh, it means… ‘Remember your death for all men must die.’”

“ _Rūnas aōha morghon syt valar morghūlis._ ” Jon stated back to her in a low voice.

As soon as he had said the words, Dany suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. Her whole body trembled as her heart raced once more. Immediately she stepped back, feeling as if all air had been knocked out of her.

Gasping, Dany opened her eyes.

“Remember… your…” She said slowly.

“Remember, you are…”

“Death.” Their voices joined together as one.

The abrupt roar of the wind had died down and there was nothing but silence.

As she turned to face him, there was a soft smile on his face and a glint in his eyes as he reached for her.

Even in the dim light of the fire, she noticed something about him had changed. His dark curls had flattened and took on a lighter shade. A dark brown colour instead of jet-black.

And his eyes… no longer were they the hue of deep chocolate but instead, they reminded her of dark grey skies or ageing gravestones. 

Then… she remembered.

Visions, sounds, emotions and scenes of a thousand lives filled her mind, rushing through her very soul.

She remembered.

Seated on a pale white horse, she rode across a misty field. Following behind her, a multitude of countless souls as she led them to their final destination.

She remembered.

Her name… it was spoken with fear, with heated anger, with regret, with pain and sorrow, with joy.

She remembered.

Her duty… to harvest the souls of mortals and direct them to the place where her father, the Almighty, awaited them for their final judgment.

She remembered.

Her origins… called from the depths of the universe to join her siblings in overseeing the world of men, balancing the scales of good and evil, and delivering retribution for their actions. 

She remembered… Him.

Her brother. Her mate. Her one and only true love. The only one in the entirety of the cosmos that meant everything to her.

Him.

And here he was, standing before her once again, just as he did once in a desert, asking her to share a mortal life with him.

A shimmer of tears graced her now pale-coloured lilac eyes. The hair that rippled down her shoulders was of a light silver shade and her skin was porcelain white.

A brief smile quickly widened into a grin as she buried her face into his chest, before looking up at him once more.

Holding his face in her hands, she gave a wet chuckle, “I promised you, I would find you, did I not?”

“Indeed. Just as I told you that I would find you.” He replied, pressing his lips to her palm, “Forgive me for my delay.”

“Forgive me for mine.” She responded, threading her fingers through his hair.

His hands ran down her back and settled around her waist as he pulled her close.

“Tell me, brother, was this life the adventure you wanted it to be?” She asked as she leaned her forehead against his cheek.

“It was, and more.” He answered simply, “And you, sister, was this life as unexceptional and mundane as you yearned for it to be.”

She pulled back a little from him as she replied with sincerity, “It was a little harder than I imagined it would be.”

He sighed quietly as he brushed her cheek with his thumb, “Yes, it was. Do you have any regrets?”

Pondering over this question, Dany slowly shook her head.

Just like Aemon had told her, she finally understood why things were the way they were and how all the pain and anguish she had endured had led her to this very moment. Realizing this, she decided that she did not wish for her life to have happened in any other way.

“Not in the slightest. Dany… she has the purest soul that I have ever had the privilege to possess. Everything that she is. Her heartache, her strength, her compassion… I couldn’t have asked for a more perfectly imperfect mortal life.”

“And it shall continue to be. Only this time, neither you nor I have to experience it all alone. We can live it together.” He said softly.

“Together.” She repeated, as she met his eyes once more and brushed her hand across his bearded cheek, “Now and always.”

“Yes,” He stated, his breath warm on her cheek, “Now and always.”

It took only a second before he captured her soft lips and held her tightly against him as she wrapped her own arms around his neck.

Outside her window, the faint light of the moon shone upon them and the faint glow of Christmas lights from her neighbour’s home shone into the dimly lit living room.

Just then, they heard a soft Christmas carol playing from afar.

After a moment, they pulled apart, grinning as they breathed in each other’s scent.

“Happy Christmas, my love.” War greeted as he rested his forehead on hers.

Death smiled.

“Happy Christmas.”

**Author's Note:**

> If y'all are asking how progress on my other fics are going. I will be working on them more in the New Year! I promise. Nothing is abandoned... yet (?) 
> 
> LOL


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